Burn higher than the sun
by P. Taylor
Summary: People say to avoid vicious circles and love triangles, but really, does anyone listen? Rachel, Kurt, Santana and Quinn grew up together, and now the only thing they have in common is each other... and the fact they make really bad romantic choices. Then again, what can you do when you fall in love with the wrong person? [pezberry, gayness, sex, drugs and general dirty stuff :D]
1. Give me a second

Hey! So... new fic. :P

Just to give a hands up, I don't follow the series all the way. It's not AU, but I do take some liberty to rethink some characters, hahaha Nothing drastic, though. I like the way they are. And I hope you enjoy this.

Please, let me know what you think. :)

* * *

**Give me a second**

Santana watched as the music gone out and the lights went on, turning the dance floor into an empty dirty space. With a nod to the cleaning crew, she walked to the private area, stopping midway to take off the high heels, sighing in relief. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't turn to see who was coming.

"Hey, San. Look at what I've saved for us." The bar manager, Justin, was waving a small plastic pack filled with coke.

"I don't think so, Justin."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a buzz killer. I can't shoot it all up myself."

Santana rolled her eyes, but followed him to a VIP room, falling onto a black sofa. Justin emptied the plastic on the table in front of them and took a plastic card out of his pocket – it was a black, rectangular card, with a shining red asterisk in the middle. The access-card to the private area of the club Santana managed, The Asterisk.

"Where's your first lady, anyway, Miss Delicious?"

"Shh. Shut up. Don't summon the devil."

"I'm surprised to see you alone at all. She must be hunting you down."

"Then just hurry up!"

But before he could split the coke into rails, the door was opened and a black girl in high heels, wearing really heavy makeup, entered.

"There is my Miss Delicious!" She cried out, all too excitedly. "I've looked for you everywhere!"

Santana pretended not to notice the amused smile on Justin's lips.

"I'm here."

"You know I don't like it when you leave me alone."

"I was tired. And you were talking to your friends."

"Anyway! What if someone had hit on me? What if I'd liked it?"

_I wouldn't be so lucky_, Santana thought.

"We're just finishing up here and I'm going to bed." She said as Justin snorted the coke trough a ten dollar bill.

"Sounds like a plan to me." Wanessa smiled as Santana inhaled the second rail and passed the bill to her to do the third and last one.

"No, no. I'm sleeping alone tonight."

"But why! I'm right here to keep you company."

Santana felt the tiredness of the day give place to an agitation, and her skin began to tingle.

"Look, Wan, I'm having lunch with Rachel in six hours. I need some sleep. You'll be more comfortable at your place."

"No, I can't believe you're ditching me for that dwarf."

"Don't call her that."

"_You_ call her that."

"I can, you can't." Santana must have sounded as mad as she felt, because Wanessa's mouth turned into a perfect _upside-down-u_.

"I'm taking off." Justin announced, probably predicting the storm. "See you tomorrow, boss."

Santana waved him goodbye.

"You should go too, Wanessa. I need to get some rest."

"Don't be like this," She chimed. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know..."

"I just wanna be with you." She sat on Santana's lap, uninvited.

"I know, but-"

"I'm so into you, God..." Wanessa's lips were on Santana's neck. "You know what you do to me?"

"Wanessa..."

"I feel your scent and I'm already wet. You can't send me home like this, it's not fair..."

Santana sighed, feeling the touch in her breasts, the nipples reacting despite her will.

"Let's get upstairs so I can take you off of that dress..."

"Alright," She finally agreed. "Alright."

* * *

Kurt was trying to keep his eyes off the man, but it was hard. First, they were sitting in front of each other on the subway. Then Kurt was just behind him in the stairs, and now they were walking down the same path for two blocks.

And it wasn't just about him being gorgeous – which he was, with that golden locks mass of hair and green eyes –, but also the tie that matched the suit so poorly, and the way he seemed to be lost, checking his phone all the time. And it was, Kurt had to admit it, the southern accent he had heard on the subway.

When the guy entered the building where Kurt so happened to work, he started to wonder. The man stopped at the reception, while Kurt simply waved good morning at the security there and went towards the elevators.

When the door finally opened, the blonde man was walking on his direction.

"Hold, please!"

_Oh, well._

"Thank you." He smiled at Kurt as if he meant it. As if he was really grateful.

"No problem." Kurt pressed the eleventh floor button. "You?"

"Eleventh also. Do you work here?"

"Yes. Are you going to the May Editorial?"

"I am. I'm a little late, actually. I just... I got lost at the subway." He admitted with a tight cute smile.

"First time here?"

"First time in New York."

"Oh. Job interview?"

"Yes. _Green Leaf_."

"The econ magazine."

"Yes, that's right. Do you work there, by any chance?"

"Oh, no. I'm at _Spark_. The fashion magazine."

"Right. Spark. I should have guessed." He smiled. And before Kurt could get his _just-because-I-am-gay-it-does-not-mean_ speech ready, he added: "I mean, I'm so underdressed compared to you that I'm this close to go back to the hotel and rethink my tie choice."

Kurt couldn't help but smile.

"I'm pretty sure your tie choice is not a prerequisite in _Green Leaf_."

"I hope you are right. I'm Edward, by the way. Edward Cuddy."

"Oh my God, for a moment I thought you'd say-"

"Edward Cullen. I know. I get that a lot." He sighed and Kurt chuckled.

"I'm Kurt Hummel. Nice to meet you."

They were shaking hands when the door opened at the eleventh floor.

"Do you want me to lead you to the Green Leaf editorial?"

"I don't wanna trouble you."

"That's no trouble. Come on. The hallways here can be a little tricky in the beginning and we don't want you to get more late."

"Thank you, then. Thank you."

"This way." He said and they walked down the floor together.

* * *

"Ok, people. Good job." The director said when the music in the background died. "Rachel, nice last note."

"Thank you, Victor." She said, panting slightly.

"Let's take a break for lunch. And God protect you from my wrath if any of you have something heavier than a turkey sandwich and get back here fat and sleepy. I'll see you all at three and we'll take from scene four again."

"Damn scene four." Sebastian complained next to her. "I have nightmares about it already."

"You'll get all the footsteps in time, Sebastian. Don't be too worried about it. We still have two months to go."

But of course Rachel had all the choreography figured out by the first rehearsal week.

"Thanks, Rach. Look, where are you going for lunch? I found this amazing vegan place three blocks away, you'll love it."

"Actually, I meeting a friend for lunch."

"Oh, ok."

"Let me just check where she is, and maybe the three of us could try this new place together?"

"Sounds good to me." Sebastian smiled as they went backstage.

Rachel rummaged through her purse for her cellphone and texted Santana via Whatsapp.

_Hey, I'm on my break. Are you around already?_

A few seconds later, she received a reply. It was a selfie of Santana still in bed, her make up messed up around her swelled eyes and a sleepy smile on her lips. Rachel sighed.

"Seems like it'll be just us today, Seb."

"What about your friend?"

Rachel sighed again.

"She can't be trusted."

The cell biped.

Asterisk tonight? - Santana was asking.

_I don't think so. Guess I'll follow your lead and use our scheduled time_ _together to sleep._

Don't be a bitch.

_Can't. Lived with you too long._

Another selfie. This time the smile was full, but a middle finger was in the way.

* * *

"Quinn!" Sam yelled her, making the blonde jump a little.

"What! Are you trying to kill me?"

"We're out of wine." He said, wiping his forehead with his hand. It was hot in there, despite the cold outside. Hot and sweaty, and _not_ in a good way.

"Out of what?"

"Wine. We just served the last bottle and I can't seem to find someplace opened at this time. Not nearby, anyway. Soon people will start to sober up."

And of course, they couldn't have that. Nobody ever thought about a great sober party. Deals didn't get made if people were sober. People didn't fuck who they shouldn't. No good story ever started with "I was sober when…".

"No, that's not happening under my watch."

"So what do we do?" His lower plump lip seemed to tremble just a little. It was an important party. The only big one they've had in a while. Things got to be perfect if they wanted to keep their jobs.

"Ok, I got an idea. You go fill up two buckets of water and bring them back here. I'll start praying."

"Wh...?" Sam seemed confused for a moment, then nodded. "Ok!"

"Sam!" Quinn held his arm when he turned to leave. "I'm kidding! Are you drunk?"

"Well, I'm a man of faith. I've seen you working miracles before."

Quinn smiled and handed him the keys to the company's minivan.

"I have a few more boxes in the van outside."

The relief was so clear in Sam's face that made Quinn laugh.

"You bought extra."

"I bought extra." She confirmed. "Go now. I'll check the buffet."

Quinn entered the saloon, scanning it around for trouble. But the music was right, the waiters were fine, the people was chatting and laughing, everybody was drinking. And her boss, at one side, seemed to be already drunk. Great. He was never as good at organizing parties as at _partying_.

"Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes?" She looked up to face a tall man wearing a black fitted suit. She didn't mind to ask how he knew her name, since her boss made everyone in the team wear a ridiculous tag around the collar. Like an owner would leash his puppies.

"Nice party."

"Oh, thank you. We are pleased to know you're having a nice time."

"We?"

"I mean the Nightway Company." She smiled politely.

"Again… We?" He smiled back at her. "The way I've seen you walking around this night, I could swear you're the only one in charge."

Dammit, he'd seen her all night? She was supposed to be invisible for the guests.

"Don't worry, you were very subtle. I've only seen you because that is the very reason I came here for."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not a stalker." He hurried to say, chuckling. "Ok, perhaps just a little. My name is Reuben Whalling."

"Whalling? As in Whalling Cultural Productions?" Quinn swallowed hard.

"Exactly." He produced a business card from his pocket and handed it to Quinn. "I heard your name around. And I happen to have an open spot on my company right now. So, if you're interested, why don't you give me a call this week and come visit us downtown?"

"I will," Quinn nodded firmly. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll be waiting."

And he walked away. Quinn could swear the card would burn in her hot hands, so she stuffed it in her pocket. Then she wandered through the saloon, taking off that damn tag, head spinning, until she found herself out of the ball area and into the hotel bar.

"Can I help you, miss?" The barman asked when she dropped herself into a stool.

"Give me something strong."

"Tough night?" The woman beside her asked. Quinn turned her head and looked at a beautiful redhead in a red dress, smiling with red lips, holding a tall glass with red nails.

"Yes. Tough job. So hard, all night long." She sighed, then blushed when realized what she had said.

The woman laughed.

"Aren't those the worst?"

Quinn smiled back at her.

"But it's having a terrific ending."

"It's far from ending, though. It's only one in the morning." The redhead gave her a crooked smile and Quinn wondered if things could get any better.

"You are right. I can still change this to a tender delightful night."

"I'll drink to that." The woman raised her glass when the barman got Quinn a dose of whisky.

They toasted and Quinn even liked the burning liquid going down her throat. It was as hot as the redhead's stare.

"I'm Patricia."

"I'm happy." Quinn said back like a fool, but Patricia laughed.

"I can see that." She bit her lip. "Your smile is absolutely delicious to see."

_God, she is hitting on me. This night is the best night._

"Probably even more delicious to taste." The redhead went on and Quinn felt her face burning.

_It's the whisky_, she thought. She didn't get this excited about people hitting on her. Right?

Patricia looked over her shoulder for a moment, and then sighed.

"Sadly, I have to go."

"Really? We didn't even finish out drinks."

At that, Patricia threw back the rest of her wine, then Quinn's whisky, making the blonde giggle. Then she leaned forward, furtively, and placed a quick and wet kiss on Quinn's lips.

The blonde blinked at her. What the fuck? That was just too sudden, and inappropriate and goddamn _hot_.

"It _is_ delicious to taste, your smile. I wonder what else will taste this good. Call me." She placed a card on the balcony, got up and vanished, leaving Quinn even more lightheaded.

Then she looked at the card and her stomach lurched. It read _Patricia Whalling – Whalling Cultural Productions Ltd – Marketing &amp; Publicity Department Chief._

* * *

"Maybe they are brother and sister?" Kurt suggested, eyes jumping from one card to another.

"I googled them. They are husband and wife." Quinn smacked her head against the table while Santana bursted into laugh.

"That is the best story I've heard since Rachel dated a male hooker." Santana said, sucking at her drink through the straw.

"Shut up, San! That's not funny! I'm _so_ fucked!"

"Quinn, breathe." Rachel placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong, ok? You didn't know."

"Like that will make any difference to them. I can't believe I've ruined a job offer even _before_ the interview."

"You didn't ruin anything." Rachel replied.

"She's right, Quinn," Kurt nodded. "This woman kissed you. And she had probably to be drunk to do it."

"Wow, thanks for that, Kurt." Quinn grimaced and Santana laughed even harder.

"I mean," He said, sending a warning look to Santana. "To do it that way. With her husband right there."

"Oh my God! If he saw it, I'm done for life. I better start finding another area to work at."

"Quinn, shut up. Stop whining." Santana clapped her hands in front of her friend. "He didn't see shit. You'll take those cards, you'll call this guy to set up a meeting. Best case scenario, this Patricia was drunk and won't remember you. Everything will be just fine. Worst case scenario, she does remember you, she gets embarrassed and makes up an excuse and her husband won't hire you. Then you'll have to stay in your crappy job. But first you fucking try!"

"I've never thought I'd say this, but Santana is right," Rachel rolled her eyes as the Latina scoffed at her. "You know your current job is way below your education level, anyway. You deserve this chance."

"I do, right?"

"You totally do, dear." Kurt reassured her with a nod.

"I do. Right. You're right. I'll call. I'll pretend nothing has ever happened."

"You go, girl."

"Thank you, guys."

Rachel and Kurt smiled and Santana winked.

"Can we talk about me now?" The Latina asked.

"I'd rather talk about Taylor Swift's new kitty." Rachel said.

"Does she have a new kitty?" Kurt asked.

"What happened to Meredith?" Quinn arched an eyebrow.

"Ha-ha. Very funny," Santana interrupted them. "But I have to kill someone, so could you guys pay attention for a moment?"

"Only if it's Wanessa."

"For the matter of fact, Rachel, it _is_ Wanessa."

"Then we most certainly will help you." Kurt guaranteed.

"That girl… is crazy." Santana blurted, to nobody's surprise. "She has no appreciation for other people's feelings, she is needy and disrespectful. And, most of all, she won't leave me alone!"

"Maybe you should talk to her?" Rachel said, unamused.

"I've tried that. But she won't listen to anyone whose name is not Wanessa."

"You know," Quinn started. "Following your train of thought, all you have to do is to ask another Wanessa to tell your Wanessa to leave you alone. I know a few Wanessas."

Santana scowled at her.

"You know what I meant," She sounded moody. "I'm serious. I've tried everything, from 'we don't match' to 'you suffocate me'. I don't know what else to do!"

"What about keeping your door closed?" Rachel asked.

"And your legs, for that matter." Kurt added.

"She has the key."

"To your house or to your pussy?" Quinn deadpanned and Rachel and Kurt laughed.

"To my house." As the other three stared at her in disbelief, Santana added. "I didn't give it to her! She just showed up with a copy!"

"That's scary." Rachel murmured to her drink.

"That's what you get by fucking first, asking second."

"Oh, you're one to talk, Fabray."

"I didn't fuck any-"

"Find another girl." Kurt interrupted, shutting them up. "Both of you. We're in a club, for God's sake. Just go hunting. Quinn, find someone single. Santana, find an even meaner bitch to scary this one."

"Kurt, this is the worst advice you have ever given." Rachel reprimanded him. "To Santana, I mean. You're right about Quinn."

"You guys think so?"

"Yeah!"

"And why can't _I_ find another girl?" Santana complained. "It seems like a legit idea."

"You have to talk to your sociopath girlfriend first!" Rachel yelled.

"She is not my girlfriend!"

"Then tell _her_ that!"

Quinn grabbed them both by the arms.

"You can continue this on the dance floor, while I… _hunt_."

"Make it 'we'." Kurt said, getting up too.

"You guys don't do anything I wouldn't!" Santana shouted at them as Quinn and Kurt moved on to the first _lesbian-and-queer_ couple they eyed.

"That's worthless advice." Rachel giggled as Santana rolled her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry for earlier today. I really meant to go."

"Forget about it. I'm used to it by now."

"Don't make a scene, Rachel. I'm saying I'm sorry."

"And I'm saying that's ok."

"Shit."

"No, really-"

"Shit, shit! Wanessa's here."

"Not news." Rachel crossed her arms across her chest. "She's always here."

"She said she wouldn't come tonight."

"Then she's trying to surprise you."

"Well, not if I surprise her first." Santana turned to Rachel with madness shining in her eyes. I little more than usual, that is. "Kiss me."

"_What?_"

"Kiss me, Rachel! She'll see, she'll be mad, she'll leave me alone."

"You're insane."

"I mean it! It's just one kiss! It won't kill you!"

"I'm so not kissing you."

"Please! She has always been jealous of you, anyway."

"Really? Of me? Why?"

Santana smiled because all Rachel sounded was flattered.

"Because she thinks you're gorgeous and talented and of course I should be into you."

"Me? Not Quinn?"

"You. So. Kiss the fuck out of me now, please."

"No." Rachel shook her head. "That's wrong. Just _talk_ to her."

"I'm done talking." Santana took a step forward. "To both of you." Then she held Rachel by the waist, dragged her closer and pressed their lips together.

A few steps away, Quinn and Kurt approached their target.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" Quinn smiled at them.

The girl was beautiful, all brown hair and blue eyes, and the sweetest smile Quinn had seen in a really long time. The guy was tall, broad shoulders, big hands, and yet so feminine he could put Kurt to shame.

"I'm Kurt." He said, eyeing the guy, who eyed him back. "This is my friend, Quinn."

"Nice to meet you," Said the brunette, lowly. "I'm Marley."

"Ryder." The guy completed.

"Ryder," Kurt repeated. "Strong name." The guy smiled. "Should we get a strong drink to go along with it?"

Ryder glanced at his friend who gave a small smile in consent, and then he and Kurt took off.

"That was quick." Quinn said, giggling as they watched the guys walk away.

"Guys, right?"

"Yeah…" The blonde looked at Marley, paying more attention. She wore nude lip gloss perfectly applied, which usually meant 'unaccompanied'. Good. "I see your cup is almost empty as well. Let's get you a refill…"

"Oh, thank you, but I actually think I've already drank too much."

"Oh, why? Do you work tomorrow?"

"No, but…"

"But?" Quinn smiled invitingly. Marley's eyes focused in her mouth, then eyes, then mouth again. Quinn's smile got bigger.

"I think I should probably go… find my other… friends… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. That's ok."

"I… Good night, Quinn."

She walked away and Quinn sighed, wondering if she had bumped into a straight-curious who'd lost her nerve in the last moment. But just then Marley looked back over her shoulder, flipping her hair and smiling like women do when they want other people to follow the crumbs to the candy house.

"Straight my ass." Quinn mumbled to herself, smiling back.

In the bar area, Kurt handed Ryder a drink that was only strong in Vitamin C, since it had much strawberry and orange, and no alcohol.

"So, Ryder, do you like to dance?"

Ryder gave him a full-size smile.

"I like it so much that when I do it next to people, I usually injure them."

Kurt laughed.

"What if I promised to protect the peasants? Would you dance with me?" Ryder nodded, chuckling. "Only beware." Kurt advised him. "When I dance, I usually blind people with my glamour."

The chuckle became a laugh.

"We'll burn this house down." Ryder said, grabbing Kurt's hand and leading him to the dance floor.

Pressed against Santana's body, Rachel felt her heart thump, like it was scared. Of course she knew Santana and Santana's body, and Santana's hands, and Santana's mouth… but not like that. Not like that _at all_.

She gestured to back away, but Santana held her in place. Rachel knew it wasn't right to kiss her in front of Wanessa. But she also knew Santana would be very pissed off to be _rejected_ in front of Wanessa. So she opened her mouth and accepted the kiss.

Santana tasted like vodka, strawberry, ice and woman. And this last taste was the most unexplainable, but also the dominant. It was nice, actually. And it became even nicer when Santana raised a hand to her neck, pulling her closer. Although Rachel couldn't quite figure out why the way Santana's hands moved had anything to do with that womanly taste in her mouth.

Maybe it was because both hands and mouth knew so well what to do, where to fit, how to go deeper. If someone was to ask, Rachel wouldn't be able to tell at what moment she decided it was a good idea to wrap Santana's neck with her arms, or to touch her thick hair until she found the warm nape underneath it.

And then it didn't matter anymore, because Santana's mouth had changed its temperature, its pace, its intent. Now she was asking to be kissed as much as she was kissing, seducing Rachel's teeth to those tasty lips.

Rachel was clumsily pushed backwards until a wall propped them – but it didn't stop them. And, somehow, Santana's full body was in that kiss, and pressed against Rachel's, and in her tongue, and in her head, spinning, hot, drowning her throat with the most sexy and womanly taste she had ever had before.

Yes, it was a kiss, just a kiss, but it was also something else. Something like a wave going backwards; instead of crushing into the sand, it would merge into the ocean again.

It _was_ just a kiss, but so good that…

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Santana barely felt the hand in her arm that pulled her briskly from Rachel, making her stumble almost two feet away. But her senses sharpened all at once when she saw Wanessa marching towards Berry, still against the wall. In a quick motion, Santana stepped forward, pushed Wanessa out of Rachel's way, and prompted herself between the two of them.

"YOU FUCKING WHORE! I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU AND THAT LITTLE _DWARF_ _BITCH_…!

Santana grabbed Wanessa's arm firmly.

"Stop it! Shut up or I'll shut you!"

"HOW COULD YOU, YOUR MOTHER FUCK-"

"_WANESSA!_" Santana shook her hard, but that only fed the girl's anger. She attacked Santana, clawing her with long savage nails. It took a moment or two for the Latina to have her hands under control. "Let's take this conversation upstairs."

"San," Rachel stepped beside her. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Can't have it here." Santana said, as she started to drag a screaming Wanessa to the private elevator. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" She yelled midway, and Wanessa eased the scandal.

Rachel stood there, heart thumping, dizzy.

"Are you alright?" Quinn asked, showing up by her side.

"Yeah, I'm ok." She said, eyes glued to where Santana had just vanished with her sociopath not-girlfriend.

"You were right," Kurt said, emerging near them with a tall guy by his side. "It was a bad advice."


	2. I need to get my story straight

Hey, hello. I hope nobody quitted this already because I took too long with this second chapter. :( I'll try to be more active, but you guys could try to review me more. :DD haha Alright, there we go. These first chapters are always more explicative than fun, but I hope you enjoy anyway. We're preparing the game and will play soon enough, promise.

XX

* * *

**I need to get my story straight**

Santana shut the door and locked it. Her muscles seemed to relax all at once, and she felt exhausted. She paused for a moment to properly appreciate the silence in her loft; all she could hear was the muffed noise of the elevator.

And that made her sigh in relief and finally march to her bed, dropping herself on the mattress and turning her head to look at the time in her bedside clock. It was past four in the morning – too late, she thought, or too soon to call anyone.

Nevertheless, she had to.

Santana groped for her phone, gave it a voice command and pressed it against her ear.

Rachel picked up at the third ring.

"San? Are you alright?" She didn't sound sleepy, but worried. Santana didn't know why, but that made her smile against the cell.

"Of course I'm alright." The Latina scoffed. "Wanessa just left, all cried out, with nothing to say. Really, just like a P. Diddy's song."

Rachel giggled unwillingly.

"I can't believe she was there this whole time. Are you really alright? I swear to God, if that lunatic laid even a finger on you, I'll…"

"What?"

"I'll be really mad."

"Wow. That's scary." Santana rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I'm fine. She just screamed and cried the whole time."

"Sounds like you had a great night." Rachel sounded tired.

"Yeah…" Santana bit on her lip then let the air out. "Look, I'm sorry. For getting you involved."

"What we did was really lame – it does not justify she hurting you! –, but was really lame."

"I guess…"

"But you don't have to apologize. You didn't _make_ me do anything, per se. I'm a big girl, you know."

"Right." Santana bit on her lip again. Suddenly, she remembered that Rachel had done just the same, a few hours before. She gulped. "She'll probably be doing some nasty _brujería _on me. But, you know, I'm resilient."

"You're crazy. Did you manage to break up with her, at least?"

"Yes! Yes, finally!" Then she paused. "I think so."

She could almost _listen_ to Rachel rolling her eyes.

"So…" Santana continued, before she was scolded. "We kissed."

And there it was again, that warm feeling in her throat, expanding to her chest and stomach.

"Yeah…" Rachel's voice sounded really low.

"Was it weird?"

"Well, I don't know. Do we have to talk about it?"

"No. I'm just… I'm just asking if it was weird, that's all."

"Having in mind that we were interrupted by an insane girl trying to kick out asses, then you vanished with said girl and I was escorted to the exit by your securities, while everyone looked at me… I would say the kiss wasn't the weirdest part of my night."

"The securities escorted you out?"

"It's your non-violence policy, remember?" Rachel said. "And it wasn't like I was going to stay, anyway. So don't be mad at them. They were gentle."

"They shouldn't have…!"

"That's the least of our problems, _Miss Delicious_."

"Oh, _don't_." Santana protested, but Rachel was giggling.

"I should go to sleep…" She said, finally. "It's been a long day. And a long night."

"Ok…" Santana breathed in, looking around at her empty loft. "Rachel…"

"What?"

"It's so quiet here."

Rachel laughed briefly.

"I wonder why you sounded so gloomy." As Santana didn't answer, Rachel sighed and asked, "Do you want to come over?"

Santana did.

* * *

Rachel stirred her eyes, disturbed by the clarity that wasn't filtered by the curtains. She wasn't completely awaken, but just enough to be conscious about the scene around her; the gray morning outside, the windows forgotten opened, the comforter tangled around her legs, and Santana's body pressed against hers.

She vaguely remembered Santana coming in at five in the morning; that she had opened the door for the Latina; that they had talked a little while Santana showered and borrowed Rachel's pajamas. Then they went to bed and the world had shut down. They were both so tired.

Now, as it seemed, they were spooning. On those few seconds hanging between waking up and getting back to sleep, Rachel thought of many things – how it was weird, even a little embarrassing, that they slept like that; but that it was also kind of… sexy. She could feel Santana's breasts against her back and Santana's hand on her hip, and Santana's breath, humid and shallow, on her neck.

But, most of all, she thought Santana was… hot. Really hot. And her warmth, on that cold morning, made the space under the comforter so sleepy, and comfy, and delicious. Rachel didn't want to move, get away, or think of anything else. She fell asleep again, perfectly wrapped by her.

She woke up again a few hours later, and Santana had rolled to the other side of the bed, where she laid topless on her stomach. Rachel wasn't surprised. It was past noon now, the room was warmer, and Santana had a known preference for sleeping naked.

What _did_ surprise her was the sudden impulse to touch Santana's bare skin; to run her fingers through that caramel sea, from nape to tailbone, and watch the fair trail of hair bristle all the way.

She was even more surprised to give in so quickly to that impulse, that she actually extended her hand and touched that warm skin to feel Santana's muscles contracting slightly. The Latina murmured something, but didn't wake up. Rachel felt a heavy ache inside her. Something so hot it burned.

So she got up quickly and found herself a way to a cold shower.

* * *

Mr. Whalling fussed through some papers at his desk, and then seemed to give up finding whatever he was looking for, rested on his chair and looked directly at Quinn.

"Honestly, I have only one more question."

"Yes, sir?"

"What an Ivy League girl was doing at the Nightway Company?"

Quinn breathed in slowly.

"I took an internship there one summer, when I first started college. It was a familiar company, that's true, but to me it seemed to have a lot of potential. Mr. Brexler was a great man that worked very hard and very well. I felt like I had a lot to lean with him."

"But Mr. Brexler passed away, what, six months into your hiring?"

"Four."

"And Junior took over."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm guessing you didn't have much to learn from _him_."

Quinn didn't answer to that. She wasn't about to slash her actual boss to the man who could be the next one.

"So… Why did you continue there?"

"I just thought I could still do a good job. I've been trying to."

"You could do a great job just about anywhere else, with this résumé."

"I guess I'm just… not a quitter."

"Nevertheless, you're here."

"I'm not a quitter, but I'm also not stupid." Quinn ventured and Mr. Whalling laughed.

"Fair enough. Come on. Let's take a walk and I'll introduce you to our team."

Quinn got up, trying not to look nervous. Her brain tried and failed to come up with an excuse to not to meet the team. Specially the chief of the Marketing &amp; Publicity Department. But she knew it was useless, she might as well get rid of that part.

Reuben Whalling took her office by office, making lots of introductions, and Quinn shook many hands. Then they were in front of the last office and the name on the door made Quinn's knees tremble slightly. Mr. Whalling knocked a few times, and then opened it.

"Patty, I'm with Quinn Fabray here."

The woman sitting at a big wooden desk raised her head. When her eyes met Quinn's, the blonde knew – if Patricia was drunk that night, it wasn't enough to make her forget.

"Quinn Fabray?" She repeated, getting up slowly. Like a cat.

"Good morning, Mrs. Whalling. It's a pleasure to meet to you." Quinn managed, licking her dry lips.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Fabray."

Patricia walked up to her, hand extended. Quinn shook it, heart pounding at the soft and firm touch and intense glare.

"I should let you talk." Mr. Whalling said with a polite smile. "Patricia is not only my wife, but also my vice-president. If you two get along…" His smile got wider. "Well, then let me know."

"I'm sure we will." Patricia said, not letting Quinn's hand go. "Thanks, Reuben."

Then the man left, closing the door behind him.

"So, miss Fabray." Patricia's smile grew bigger, warmer. "What a surprise."

"I didn't know." Quinn let out, without planning. Actually, she had planned just the opposite: not to talk about that at all. "That day… in the bar. I didn't know. Until you handed me your card, I…"

"I'm sure you didn't."

"Maybe I shouldn't have come, but this _is_ a huge opportunity for me. I also wanted to make it clear that I don't intend to cause you any trouble, I would never-"

"Please, relax." Patricia interrupted her with a giggle. "Of course you should come. It's a job interview. You're fit for the spot, from what I've heard. Our little… moment… shouldn't be in the way of that. Please."

The redhead made a gesture for Quinn to sit and the blonde obeyed. Patricia propped herself in the front of the desk, looking down at her. Quinn's cleavage was conservative, but from that angle, she couldn't help but wonder what Patricia's view was. Because she was looking, that was for sure.

"Is there anything you would like to ask me, Mrs. Whalling? I'd be happy to start over…"

"Yes, I would like to know more about you. Much more."

"Well, to start, I can guarantee I _am_ fit for this job, Mrs. Whalling."

"Please, call me Patricia." She seemed to be really amused, smiling like that, looking at Quinn like that. She managed to be completely inappropriate and perfectly placid at the same time.

Quinn sighed. They were not starting over.

"Patricia. I hope you believe me when I say it was just a coincidence…"

"Don't you just love coincidences? It's like a universal conspiracy." Patricia's voice sounded deeper, softer.

Quinn swallowed hard.

"I guess I've never… gave it much thought."

"Well, I have. I can't avoid thinking this kind of coincidence means something. Don't you think it means something, Ms. Fabray?"

"Perhaps."

Patricia then boosted herself lightly and sat on the desk. She wore a fitted gray skirt, very professional, that rose just a little when she crossed her legs for Quinn's benefit.

"I don't think the universe would put you in my way twice if it didn't want me to do something about it." She said matter-of-factly.

Quinn blinked at her. And blinked again. Even when she managed not to look at those legs anymore, the glimmer in Patricia's eyes was as promising as her thighs.

"And… what do you think it would be?" Quinn asked because, apparently, she had no common sense.

Patricia smiled brighter.

"Well, we'll have to find out, won't we?"

* * *

"Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt looked up into green eyes. The man smiled at him, a smile Kurt immediately recognized.

"Hello, Mr. Cuddy." He said back, getting up and shaking the guy's hand. "You're back."

"Yes. I believe you'll be seeing a lot of me around here."

"Oh, really? You got the job?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's great. Congratulations!"

"Thank you."

"When do you start?"

"On Monday. I just came today to talk to the HR department."

"All set, then?"

"All set." Edward confirmed and both men spent a second just looking at each other.

"Good, then. I hope you enjoy working here. If you need anything..."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Actually, I came looking for you because I wanted to thank you again for helping me out that day."

"That was really nothing."

"But it was. You were about the only person in this city that was nice to me that day, and I was pretty nervous."

"You'll get used to New York. It's no always that bad."

"I'm sure you're right, but anyway I thought it couldn't be too early to start making friends at work."

"I guess you're right too." Kurt said, not mentioning they'd work on different magazines and that the econ and the fashion editorials almost never mingled. In some way, he was sure Edward already knew that.

"So, maybe..." Edward hesitated, and then smiled that tight embarrassed cute smile he had. "Do you have plans for lunch, Mr. Hummel?"

Kurt smiled back, shaking his head. "But, please, call me Kurt."

"And you can call me Ed. That's how my friends call me."

"Then Ed it is." Kurt looked around. "Let me just catch my things."

"Right. I'll wait for you down the hall." He went ahead, leaving Kurt with a light fluttering sensation. It was probably the accent. Or the green eyes. Or that smile. Giggling to himself, Kurt grabbed his bag, told his colleagues he was not lunching with them today and left to meet Ed.

As Edward didn't know his way around the city yet, Kurt took him to the standard lunch option.

"Have you moved in already?"

"Partially. I just rented an apartment, and I'm trying to decorate the place, but I'm no good at it." He took a sip of his coke. "I'm shameful at it."

Kurt laughed.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"Yeah, I mean, I just need the basic stuff. I'll leave the rest to my wife to pick up, when she comes."

"Your...?" Kurt tried his best not to choke with his carrots. "You're married."

"Yeah." Edward smiled, but it wasn't in that charming way.

"Wow. I mean... you look so young."

"Well... thank you?" Ed chuckled.

"And you don't use a ring?"

"I do." He pulled a golden string from around his collar and showed Kurt the ring hanging there. "It doesn't fit my finger anymore. I don't know why. It squeezes the blood out of my hand. I've been meaning to get it widened, but..."

"Never does." Kurt completed, diverting his eyes from Ed's.

"I keep forgetting." He tucked the ring under his shirt again and Kurt wondered if it was supposed to sound like he kept forgetting he was married. To a woman.

"And when is your wife coming?"

"Only in the end of the year. Ray will be on vacation and we'll have time to look for a new school and help him make the transition. Ray is our kid. He's six."

"No way you have a kid this age! How old are you? You're not close to thirty, and if you say otherwise, I'll demand to know what cosmetics you use."

Edward smiled, shaking his head.

"I'm 24. We just... you know, jumped the gun. But he's a great kid. I'm never sorry about it."

Kurt smiled at that, although that fluttering had gone away at once.

"You'll certainly like the new city, the new job, the new life. All of you."

"I hope you're right." Then he smiled in that way again and Kurt's stomach flipped slightly one last time. Not good.

On cue, his phone biped and Kurt looked at the scream to see that Ryder had texted him.

_Well_, he thought, _not everything is lost_.

* * *

Rachel was tired. The rehearsal had went on for more than eight hours. She was hoarse, her feet hurt and she could barely keep her eyes open, although she drank so much coffee during the day she still shivered slightly. As she got out of the subway and walked the few blocks towards her building, all she could do was averting the light poles. That's why she didn't notice the guy standing around her gate until he called her.

"Hey, Rachel."

She jumped, startled, and dropped the keys.

"Wh-? Finn?" She blinked a few times, wondering if she was sleep walking.

"Good. You recognized me. Part of me was afraid you wouldn't."

"Please, you grew a beard, not a third eye." Rachel said because she felt too tired to be polite. And still too startled.

Finn chuckled.

"Right. So... how are you doing?"

"Finn. What are you doing here? I didn't even know you had come back. Weren't you in London?"

"I came back two days ago. And I... wanted to see you."

"How do you even know where I live?" But she knew the answer even before he could say it.

"Kurt gave me the address."

"Are you staying here...?"

"Oh, no. I just... I really just wanted to see you again."

"You know, you could have called."

"I thought about it, but I was afraid it would be weird..."

"_This_ is weird, Finn. You were gone for three years. We haven't spoken in over two. And you just show up like this..."

He looked embarrassed. Rachel was almost sure she could see him blushing under the beard.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I should have called. I will call you. Just... can you forget I was here at all?"

"I'm sorry if I'm coming across as rude, but I just had a long day and I am so tired..."

"No, you're absolutely right. I will call you."

Rachel sighed.

"I'll pick up the phone."

"I'll tell I'm back and that I'd love to see you." He leaned down and grabbed Rachel's keys. Their hands brushed slightly when he gave them back to her. "I'll tell you I miss you."

Rachel looked once more into his eyes. So familiar and yet so different than she remembered. Then she opened the gate and walked in, leaving him behind.


	3. Getting higher

Hello again. :)

I hope you're enjoying the fic so far. I was thinking about the plots, in general, and figured some of you might find them strange (?). The thing is, I love Glee characters, but always thought their lives to be a bit too irrealistic. So, in this fic, they're older and they're more close to what I know to be young people living in a big city. I think it will be fun - what do you think? I really take reader's opinion in consideration. :)

PS: I suppose all of you like triangles? :P

* * *

**Getting higher**

The lights glimmered on the dance floor and the loud beat on the stereos made the walls of The Asterisk tremble. In the VIP area, though, where a few round tables were full, it was possible to talk.

"He just showed up from nowhere. And _you,_" Rachel pointed at Kurt accusingly, "didn't even tell me he was back in this continent!"

"Finn wanted to surprise you," Kurt said, tapping his fingers on the table. "I advised against it, but couldn't stop him."

"Actually, you could," Santana refuted. "You just didn't wanna upset your big bro."

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't and I _won't_ get between you two." Kurt pointed back at Rachel. "You are grownups now, deal with each other."

"There is no 'you two'." Rachel murmured to her cup. "Not for years."

Kurt shrugged. "Not my problem. I have enough in my mind already."

"_Sure._" Quinn smiled mischievously at him. "Like the guy from your job."

"What guy from your job?" Santana demanded, sitting straight.

"That cute blondie I saw you stalking on Facebook?"

"Rachel!" Kurt blushed. "I was not stalking him!"

"Oh, right. Just looking at everything that wasn't locked up, including the pages he likes, without sending a friendship request."

"I'm pretty sure nowadays that's the very definition of stalking." Quinn nodded.

Kurt wasn't amused. "I was not stalking him, I was just wondering if it was too early to send the request."

"_Kurt and blondie guy sitting on a tree…_" Santana hummed and the other girls laughed.

"Ha ha ha. So funny." Kurt rolled his eyes. "It's not like that. He's straight."

"Yeah, we've all been there." Quinn said and this time Kurt smiled too.

"He's married. We're just friends."

"We are your friends." Santana stated, taking a sip from her beer.

"Yes, which only proves I need new ones."

"Low blow." Rachel huffed.

Before Kurt could reply, a shriek echoed over the table.

"SANTANA!" They all turned their heads to find Wanessa two steps away, her eyes full of rage. "I knew you'd be with that goblin bitch!"

"Really, I'm not even that short." Rachel groaned to herself, annoyed.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Wanessa?"

"The same as all of those little whores around you. I pay, I get in, it's a club!"

"I'm so not a whore." Kurt scowled.

"I am." Quinn murmured, making Rachel and Kurt giggle.

"I told you not to come back anymore…" Santana went on, seeming more pissed at each moment, although she hadn't got up, as if Wanessa didn't deserve that much of attention.

"I wanna talk to you. Let's go upstairs."

"We're not going anywhere together. Go fucking home!"

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me!"

Quinn stood up, getting tired of that scene.

"Look, Wanessa, this is not a good time…" The blonde started.

"I didn't ask you _shit_!"

"Hey!" Kurt stood up too. "We're trying to be nice to you."

Wanessa gritted her teeth and turned to Santana again.

"Get up and come talk to me _right now_!"

Santana looked the other way, as if Wanessa had disappeared completely, and casually brought the beer to her lips.

"SANTANA!" Wanessa yelled, knocking the beer bottle that bopped against Santana's mouth before rolling down the table. "You can't do this to be, you miserable assh-"

But her sentence was flooded by a Bloody Mary wave before it could even completely leave her mouth. The thick red liquid covered her face and hair, running to her neck and collar. In a moment, Rachel was up, finger wagging on Wanessa's face.

"That's enough, your freaking lunatic." She said every word calmly enough to be scary. "If you so much as look at my woman in a weird way ever again, you'll learn what is to be a miserable asshole."

Wanessa was so shocked it took her a few moments to get her shit together. Luckily enough, the securities got to her before she could get on top of Rachel. Barely.

"I'm sorry…" Quinn said as they watched Wanessa being dragged out. "It was just me or Rachel said 'my woman'?"

Kurt chuckled and Santana groaned as she tried to smile with her bruised lips.

"Wasn't that what we were pretending to be, last week?!" Rachel rolled her eyes. "If you'll make a scene, you have to think about the details."

"Yeah. Sure."

"That girl is freaking crazy." Rachel grumbled.

"Ok, please, someone tell her." Quinn asked, laughing.

"_What?_" Rachel demanded.

Santana's smile grew bigger.

"You are too, Berry."

* * *

"Are you ok?" Rachel questioned as she entered Santana's loft behind the Latina.

"Yes, sure, I just need some ice and a new shirt."

"I'll get the ice."

"Ok, thanks. I'll change." Santana replied, walking up to the bedroom.

Rachel went to the kitchen and put a few ice cubes in a plastic bag, before heading down the hall. The door was open, so she didn't mind entering – then she found Santana in her bra. It wasn't, by all means, a new sight. It was just… She didn't know… Maybe it was a new bra. A especially sexy bra.

Or maybe she _was_ crazy, after all.

"Hey, I… The ice."

Santana looked up at her. Her lip was swelled and had bled enough to stain the shirt, but now it didn't hurt anymore. Santana licked it, wondering if she was silly to think that Rachel had just followed the move with mindful eyes.

"Thank you." She said, not making a move to dress up again.

Rachel got closer, raising the ice bag. Santana didn't make a move to take it, either. Instead, she took a step towards the singer and lowered her chin. Following the lead, Rachel touched the Latina's lips with the plastic, very delicately. They were really close now.

"I don't know why I did it." Rachel whispered, eyes fixed on Santana's lips. "I mean, besides for the fact I'm immediately attracted to a dramatic scene."

Santana smiled.

"I don't know, Rach. It pretty much looked like you were trying to defend me or something."

Rachel scoffed.

"As if. I don't care if your nuts ex-girlfriends kick your cocky Latino ass."

"You sure? Cause that was all very Lime Heights of you."

Rachel giggled unwillingly.

"I should really stop hanging out with you. Bad influence. My dads warned about that."

In response, Santana raised a hand and touched her hair. Rachel dropped her own hand, moving the bag away from Santana's face.

"I thought it was kinda cool." Santana muted softly. She could see Rachel wasn't going to agree, so she just went on. "Are you wearing the same perfume as always?"

The singer seemed confused by the sudden change of subject.

"Ahm… Yes."

"The same one you always use?"

"Yes, San."

"Since we met?"

"Since we met, all those years ago, in high school?" Rachel frowned.

"Yeah. Is it the same one?"

"Well… actually, it is."

"Hm." The Latina lowered her head until her nose was inches away from Rachel's neck. "Funny."

"What… what is funny?" Rachel asked, her voice sounding just a little husk.

"It is the same one." Santana confirmed.

But something had changed.

* * *

"I have to confess: I haven't received an invitation like this in years." Kurt said beaming at the tall guy in front of him.

"What? You haven't been asked out?"

"Not to have ice cream in the middle of a Sunday afternoon."

Ryder chuckled softly.

"What else should we do on a Sunday, besides having sundays?" He asked, taking a spoon of vanilla ice cream to his mouth.

"I can surely think of some things…"

Ryder's smile got brighter.

"Oh, come on. Aren't you having fun? Isn't your Sunday great?"

Kurt wasn't sure if he was asking about the ice cream or the day, but nevertheless he answered, "Yes, it is pretty great." Then he leaned in and Ryder met him halfway.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss. Kurt wasn't one to make huge public demonstrations of affection, but Ryder placed a hand in the back of his neck and took his mouth with an unexpected enthusiasm.

"Funny how it tastes better in your mouth." Ryder told him, still close enough to Kurt to smell his sweet breath.

"Does it?" He asked playfully, touching Ryder's light brown hair.

Ryder wasn't actually gorgeous, but he was a pretty boy, with those broad shoulders, silky hair, big smile. And he was just so charismatic. So likeable. The kind of guy other guys were constantly looking for. And there he was, looking at Kurt so invitingly.

"And, you know, this is just our first stop… We have all New York to explore."

"That's ambitious."

"Always." Ryder leaned against his chair again. "To be truthful, I didn't even think you'd accept my invitation, to begin with."

"Really? Why?"

Ryder shrugged.

"You just don't seem like the kind of guy that goes for that kind of date. You seem… too cool for school."

Kurt laughed at that. He was too cool for school? Oh, if McKinley High walls could hear that. If _Santana_ could hear that.

"You don't know me. I go for anything."

"_Anything_?" Ryder arched an eyebrow.

"On request." He said and the other guy giggled.

"You said you worked on a fashion magazine?"

"Yes. You're still in college, right?"

"Yeah. Psychology. And no…" Ryder passed his fingers through his hair, smiling. "I'm not analyzing you."

"Good to know." Then Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Ryder… how old are you?"

"Old enough."

"Oh God."

Ryder laughed.

"Does it really matter?"

"I don't know… I haven't kissed college boys since I was in college myself."

"What was probably yesterday."

Kurt smiled.

"That was cute, but no. Just tell me."

"I'm nineteen… almost."

"Oh _God_."

"Oh, come on, you cannot be older than twenty-two."

"Twenty-_three_." Kurt mumbled more to himself.

"Right, almost an elderly."

"It's just that you're so _young_."

"And you are so fucking _marvelous_." Ryder spat back with no hesitation. "I'm so fucking _thrilled_ you're here right now."

Kurt could swear he would melt in that chair. He had almost forgotten the simple honesty that _boys _had in relationships. How they didn't treat it like it was a poker game.

"Ok…" He sighed, giving up. "Then tell me what's our next stop."

"Well, I was thinking about… my bedroom."

* * *

When she simply asked for a Strawberries &amp; Crème Frappuccino without making a dozen of changes and demands, Quinn immediately liked her better.

It had taken the blonde a few minutes to remind from where she knew the girl in front of her on the Starbucks line, but now she remembered. Even before the girl gave her name to the attendant, she knew it – Marley.

"Thank you for that." Quinn said, calling her attention for the first time. "I love it when I don't have to hear 'without cream', 'double cream', 'decaff', 'extra-hot' or something like that."

Marley looked at her a little startled at first, and Quinn realized she was also trying to remember where they had met before. The blonde decided to give her some time and turned to make her own order, which was as simple as it could be – black coffee.

"Quinn." Marley's voice sounded alongside with Quinn's when the blonde said her name to the girl in the counter.

"You remembered."

"Yes, sure. I'm sorry, I have a terrible memory…"

"Not so terrible." She said as both of them moved along to retrieve their drinks at the other side of the balcony. "Truth to be told, we met for a split second."

"Yeah, I guess." Marley tucked a string of brown hair behind her ear, seeming a little shy. She was as pretty in daylight as she was in the club's strobes. And that was quite unusual.

"I never saw you anymore… In The Asterisk."

"Were you looking?" Marley asked with a skeptical smile.

"Maybe." Quinn smiled back.

"Do you go there a lot?"

"Yes, my friend is the manager, so that is kind of our spot."

"Got it."

"MARLEY!" Another attendant called, holding out a pink drink.

"Thank you." The girl said, taking it.

"You should go back sometime."

"QUINN!"

The blonde turned to received her own cup.

"I don't know, I'm not really a party girl or anything…"

"Well, you can't really deny my request…" Quinn said, showing her the plastic cup where it read _Queen_. Marley giggled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"I might forgive you…" Quinn said as they walked out the Starbucks together. They stopped at the sidewalk, body's turning to different directions. "If I see you again. On Saturday."

Marley bit on her lip, not in a sexy, but in such a girly way that made Quinn want to take her hand.

"I shall consider your request mindfully, Your Majesty." She finally said, then turned around and walked away, leaving Quinn smiling to herself.

* * *

"Lopez, wake up!"

Santana looked up from the invoices she was putting into order at Jonah, the security chief of the club.

"What?"

"The DJ candidate, Santana. The girl has been waiting for half an hour."

"Shit. I forgot about her."

She dropped the sheets and hurried to the office at the back corridor of The Asterisk. It wasn't even four in the afternoon and her feet already hurt.

"Hey." She entered the room where the girl waited for her. "I'm sorry to make you wait. It's a jungle out there today."

She sat in the free chair behind the table and held in a gasp when her eyes finally laid on the other woman.

"That's ok." The DJ said, her pinky lips curving. "I don't mind waiting."

Her voice was smooth, yet powerful, in a way Santana found very sexy. The smile reached her pitch-black eyes highlighted with eyeliner.

"You are Danielle Preacher, right?" Santana looked at her notes on the table, but didn't miss Danielle's smile getting bigger.

"Right. But everyone calls me Dani."

"Ok, _Dani_." Santana took a look on her résumé. "Lulla, Skyvox… Not bad."

"I worked on a few clubs in San Francisco, too. And Miami."

"It sounds pretty nomad."

Dani giggled.

"Yeah, pretty nomad, but New York is home to me."

"Alright… Dani, I believe the only way to know if a DJ is any good is to listen to her playing."

Dani crossed her legs in those tight jeans and arched an eyebrow.

"My equipment is in my car, outside."

"Great. What about this: the actual DJ arrives at seven. Until there, you could cheer up this place while I try to put everything to work."

"It'll be my pleasure." She smiled and both of them got up.

"I challenge you to make it fun to sign up and stock up all the deliveries we had today."

"Challenge accepted."

As soon as they got out of the office, Dani walked up to the sound mixer and Santana to the bar balcony.

The Latina watched as the DJ set up her things, leaning down to adjust something. The curve of her hips distracted Santana. Man, those were great jeans. And the strip of skin between the waistband and the shirt didn't look bad either.

Someone cleared his throat and Santana woke up.

"Miss Delicious."

She rolled her eyes. "What now, Justin?"

"Do you like the view?"

"You have no idea."

"But duty calls."

Santana sighed.

"As always. Did you check the vodka boxes?"

"Yes."

"All of them? Is everything alright?"

"Yes."

"Ok, then give me the invoice."

Santana went back to her papers while the music echoed through the empty club. It took her two seconds to recognize a remix of "Welcome to the jungle" and two more to realize it was great.

"Wow." She gave Dani a thumbs-up. "_Nice!_"

Dani beamed and looked down to the mixer again.

As Santana checked the last details before the opening, she found herself singing and dancing slightly – as were all of the other employees. Dani had made the perfect selection and the mixes were great.

Santana leaned against a wall and smiled with relief while watching the girl. She had been anxious about Guto leaving The Asterisk – he had been the DJ for as long as she worked there. The Latina had already tested three others and none of them was what she wanted. But now the searching was over.

"Hey!" Santana waved.

Dani pressed a few buttons and joined her. "Hey…"

"You're great."

"But-"

"No but. You're mine." Santana giggled to soft her tone. "I mean, you're hired."

Dani smiled, looking relieved.

"Finally."

"What? Took you too long to get a job?"

"No. It's just this one thing I really want to do and I figured it was better to wait until I was hired."

"What is it?"

"This." Dani kissed her.

It was a deep heated kiss, a kiss that had been building up the whole afternoon and now was full ready to go. Santana felt Dani's body tensing up, urging up, calling her more and more. Then Dani's hands were sliding through her back to her ass, although they were still at the saloon, and Santana got chills and gasped before breaking apart.

"I'll go upstairs for a shower. The club opens soon."

"Ok…"

"Do you… want to join me?"

Dani smiled, her lips still so close Santana could taste them.

"I do."

* * *

Rachel got in the cab and leaned in to kiss Finn in the cheek. He still didn't wear any perfume, but his skin smelled as fresh and young as she remembered.

"So, someone cancelled on you today or something?" He asked as the driver took off.

"What do you mean?"

"For you to have an available time for me on your agenda, something must have happened."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, but I really have been working my ass off lately and…"

"I was just kidding, Rach."

"_Right_."

"Well, I know you have a leading position in a musical that's coming in – what? – a month and a half?"

"Someone made his homework." She deadpanned and Finn chuckled.

"I'm just happy to see you again. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm happy to see you too."

Finn glanced at her, his eyes darting not-so-subtly through her face and cleavage and legs.

"You look beautiful."

Rachel straightened herself.

"Thank you. You're not bad yourself." She said and Finn beamed at her.

"Thanks. I thought you wouldn't notice. I trimmed my beard for you."

"I'm flattered."

"And that shirt is new."

"I bet your mom bought it."

"It's still new."

Rachel laughed, biting on her lip.

"How is your mom, by the way?"

"She's great. She asked about you. Are you going to Ohio for Christmas?"

"Yeah, sure."

"We could go together."

"Oh… I don't really know…"

"Come on, we'll take a train to the same place, at the same time. Wouldn't hurt to keep each other company in the journey."

"Well, I guess you can set those details up with Kurt."

Finn pressed his lips and scratched the beard on his chin, but didn't comment.

"What are you doing in New York, anyway? I assumed you would take over Burt's machine shops, now that you're back."

"Well, I will. I intend to. I only had a few things to settle here first, before I could go back for good."

"Like what?"

Finn stared at her meaningfully and Rachel sighed.

"You're a fool." She punched his shoulder slightly. "You can't be gone for three years and come back saying I'm something you have to settle."

"You're making it sound way worse than I meant."

"Weren't you engaged with some English girl?"

"No."

"Finn."

"I wasn't! I had a girlfriend… but it's over."

"Does that mean you blocked her on Facebook?"

"Now you're just being mean. We broke up _before_ I traveled back."

"Well, that's more luck than I had." This time Finn didn't smile. Rachel wet her lips. "Is that why you came back?"

"No. I just thought it was time."

The cab stopped and Finn paid for the ride before they got out in front of a restaurant.

"Look, Rachel, I know you've been avoiding me…"

"I have n-"

"You have. And I get it. I was a jerk to you when we broke up."

"Ok… I won't deny _that_." She crossed her arms across her chest, raising an eyebrow.

"And I know it has been three years…"

"In which you continued to be a jerk that wouldn't stay friends with me…"

"Yeah, I know. But before that I had, like, many years of credit, right?"

Rachel bit on her lip and started to walk up to the restaurant so she didn't have to answer.

"Rachel, wait. I mean it. Give me another chance. I have missed you so much. I _miss_ you so much."

They were on the entrance now and the sounds of the traffic were muffed. Rachel could hear the soft tone of his voice, the longing. The words sounded more suave, more attractive. Three years were too much. Three years were too little. But, anyway, Finn still seemed so… familiar. Then, why not?

"I've missed you too."

* * *

Santana wasn't sure how she got there. Why was she sitting on Rachel and Kurt's hallway in the middle of the night? She had a fucking club to run. And it was Friday night and nobody was home. Didn't she know that? Didn't she know Rachel would be out with Finn?

She rested her head on the wall, her face pale, and her feet bare. She felt like she couldn't breathe. And she was _so_ thirsty. The bottle of water she had on her was now empty and tossed aside with her shoes. And Rachel wasn't home. She could be out all night and Santana would die there because it was impossible to breathe.

She couldn't even move her arms. And it hurt to suck air in. Her head buzzed. It was like someone had put her on a strait jacket.

_It isn't real_, she told herself. _It's just a bad trip and it'll go away._

"Oh my God, Santana! Are you ok?"

The Latina opened her eyes and fixed them on Rachel. She was back. And she was alone. It was almost too good to be true.

"Hey, you're back…" She cheered lazily.

"What are you doing here? How… What…? Can you get up?"

She could, with a lot of help from Rachel.

"Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…"

"What did you take?" Rachel asked, serious as death. Santana hated when she looked at her like that. But she also kind of loved it.

"You know, a bit of this, a bit of that…"

"God, you're so irresponsible!" Rachel huffed, picking up Santana's stuff from the hallway and opening the door.

"How was your date?" The Latina asked, going straight to the sink. She needed water so bad.

"_Stop_ that." Rachel interrupted, closing the tap. "I bet you already drank enough water. You know how it works, the chemical won't let the water out and you'll fuck drown yourself."

"You're exaggerating a little there, Berry."

"Let's just take a bath and go to bed, ok?"

Santana licked her lips.

"Together?"

"Well, I bet my ass you can't do it alone." Rachel spat, making Santana smile. Now that was a bet she would like to win.

"You know I can't sleep right now…"

"Well, I'll tell you a bedtime story." She said, guiding Santana to the bathroom.

"Which one?"

"Something with a princess and a dragon and a knight in a shiny armor…"

"No way. I rather an amazon in a white horse."

Rachel sighed.

"Whatever."

"And she has to end up with the princess. Happily ever after and all that shit."

Rachel opened the bathroom door, laughing, at last.

"Ok, the princess and the amazon. I'll figure something out."


	4. My lover is waiting for me

Hello again!

So, in this chapter I tried to follow some requests. For Kenmura who asked me to describe more the OCs, I swear I did my best! I'm so not used to describe appearances in details anymore! hahaha I guess that's the bad thing about writing fanfic, you assume every character has a known face, even when they don't.

And for the really angry person who said I shouldn't promise dirty stuff if I won't write any... you are completely right. I'm sorry, I never meant that the fic would be about dirty stuff, just that would be some, eventually. I'm still building the plots now, you see. There's some dirty stuff in this chapter, though. hahaha But I'm guessing not as much as you might want. Well, you can always PM me and we talk about some dirtier fanfics there are out there. I know a few myself. hahaha

I guess that's it for now. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**My lover is waiting for me**

"Is that really how you want to spend lunch?" Kurt asked as they entered the shop.

"I'm pretty sure it is. I can't have more of your judgemental looks at my ties."

"I don't do that!" Kurt exclaimed, as if he was shocked, and Edward chuckled.

"You try not to. Besides," He turned to face Kurt "you told me yourself you love makeovers."

"It's not really a make over if you won't let me give you a new haircut."

"One step at the time, Hummel." He replied with a smile.

"Hello, good afternoon, how can I help you?" A saleswoman asked, glancing at Edward in a way that was all, but subtle.

"My friend here is gonna pick me some new ties. He works at a fashion magazine, you know, he's an expert in male fashion."

"I'm really not..." Kurt began.

"He's really not putting up with my crappy choices anymore." Ed completed, looking around. "The ties are over there, right?"

"Yes. My name is Sarah, you can call me if you need any help."

"Thank you, Sarah."

The woman flashed him a full-white-all-teeth-showing smile before walking away.

"God, does it happen everytime you leave your house?" Kurt asked playfully.

Edward seemed confused.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"The..." He started pointing at the saleswoman, then gave up. It was kinda cute that Ed didn't notice. "Never mind. Let's choose some ties."

The thing was, Edward was gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous it's impossible to ignore. He was a few inches taller than Kurt, and had dark blonde hair. The eyes were green, the shade of green nobody would ever call a different color - plain green, forest green. And that face - all manlike, with a strong jaw and just a shadow of blonde beard at the end of the day - seemed to draw attention wherever he went.

By now, Ed's charisma and looks had rendered him a few friends at the econ magazine. And Kurt had his own crew. Anyway, they had lunch at least once a week and hung together a few times when their gangs bumped at happy hour. It was always so easy to be around him, to be sucked into that attractive aura he had.

"See, the tie's width should match the lapel's width..."

"I didn't know that." Edward smiled as Kurt threw him a few options. "What else?"

"You have fair hair and fair skin. And you are a discreet guy..."

"By day, at least..."

Kurt suppressed a broad smile.

"You should go with pastel or monochromatic combinations."

"No green to make my eyes brighter?" He asked playfully.

"You don't really need it, do you?" Kurt picked a light grey tie and measured it against Edward's shirt.

"Please," Ed held Kurt's wrist against his own chest. The touch was light, but warm and soft enough to make Kurt swallow. His arm bristled in a unexplainable chill. Then Edward smiled his diverted smile and the tension was gone. "I can't be called Edward Cuddy and wear ties like Mr. Fucking Grey. A man has to know his limits."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head and putting the tie back.

"You're wiser than you look, mr. Cuddy."

"Did you just say I look dumb?"

"I did not," Kurt shook his head, moving on to the patterned ties.

"But you did, indeed. Is it because I'm a pretty blondie? Because that, sir, is prejudice, alright."

Kurt chuckled and picked another tie.

"I think that one would look great with a light pink shirt."

"I don't have one."

"How can you not? Isn't pink the pretty blondies' color of the season?"

"Well, if you say so, mr. Hummel, I should get one immediately."

Edward smiled at him and turned away to ask Sarah for a shirt.

He waved Kurt along when he headed to the dressing room and Kurt followed absently minded. It was only when he stopped in front of the open door and realized Edward was unbuttoning his current shirt, that he thought he shouldn't be there.

"Do you have plans for the weekend?" Edward asked, apparently not minding Kurt's presence at all.

"Nothing in particular..." He said, trying to divert his eyes subtly. He felt like turning his back plainly and leaving would be embarrassing somewhat. Like Ed's undressing was too much for him to watch.

But maybe it was.

The body revealed was everything that face promised. Slim, tough, sculptured, and with just enough chest hair to make him look more like a man than a boy.

"I'm kind of tired of being alone in this city. I've been playing soccer with the guys from Green Leaf at Sundays, but, you know... Cold lonely Saturdays."

"I'm sorry..." Kurt blinked and felt like he could breathe better when Ed closed the new pink shirt on his body.

"For what?"

"For not paying attention to the fact you're new in town. We should totally hang out more."

"I don't mean to steal you from your friends or anything..." Edward glanced at him through the mirror as he adjusted the tie.

"Don't worry. I'll introduce you to them."

Edward smiled brighter and turned to face him.

"Do you think they'll like me?"

Kurt smiled back. He was breath-taking dressed in light pink with a navy tie. And, as usual, he seemed to be oblivious to that.

"Yeah, they'll like you."

Because it looked like it was impossible not to.

* * *

"Kurt, I love you!" Rachel yelled as soon as she opened the door and realized that awesome smell that reached her still in the elevator was coming from their apartment.

Her stomach contracted, ravenous, as she entered the kitchen. And then contracted again when she found there a busy Latina in an apron.

"Yeah, I'm sure he would appreciate your love better if he was home to acknowledge it." She said, a wooden spoon in her hand.

"I thought he was cooking."

"As if! I'm the only one that prevents the pans in this house from getting cobwebbed."

That was actually true. Rachel and Kurt didn't have the slightest inclination for cooking and they mostly lived from take outs.

"What are you cooking?" Rachel asked, sitting at the small round table in the center of the kitchen.

"Butternut Squash and Black Bean Dopiaza. Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, my belly rumbled twice while you pronounced it."

Santana smiled at that and turned to the stove.

"How was your day? You look like crap."

"Thank you for your kindness."

"I'm making you dinner. What else do you want? To drown in my sweetness?"

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"It was a long day, if you wanna know. The rehearsal was exhausting, and my Dad was in town. I walked him up and down trying to resolve some bureaucracy from his work. Then I took him to the station and Sebastian called me in tears..."

"Your co-star?"

"Yes. In tears, because our director was particularly harsh on him today. So we met back in the theater and went over scene four..."

"Still scene four?"

"Always." Rachel sighed and pushed a string of brown hair from her face. "You think it would end up there, but as we were leaving, we noticed a water leak in our dressing-room and had to call a plumber at this late hour..."

"Oh, what a nightmare." Santana took a hand to her forehead dramatically. Rachel glared at her.

"I'm tired. I need food and I need sleep. I don't need your sarcasm."

"Easy, Berry. Take the sarcasm as an entree." Santana winked, making Rachel warm up a little again. As easily as always.

"How was _your _day?" She asked back.

"Fine, I guess. Woke up late, got bored, went to the market, came here. Kurt let me in, he's just out buying wine, since I forgot."

"You forgot the booze? You?"

"Hey, swallow down the sarcasm. Don't belch it back at me." Santana spat and Rachel giggled.

"Is it ready yet?"

"Almost. Here. Taste that." The Latina brought the spoon to Rachel's lips.

The sauce all but melted in Rachel's mouth and she let out an appreciative groan. Santana was watching her so closely. Eyes on eyes. Then eyes on lips. In a moment, the spoon was gone, and there was Santana's lips, offering Rachel more flavors to prove.

The moan, this time, was muffled, but deeper. Santana's hand slid into Rachel's hair, grabbing a handful of brown, pulling her up and close. Rachel was so hungry and the Latina was just delicious.

The singer didn't hesitate when Santana ushered her to sit on top of the table and placed herself between Rachel's open legs. They just wanted more.

It was as if every day, every hour of the last few weeks had driven them to that moment. All the tension and longing and arousal. It was all there now, as Rachel groped for Santana's ass and the Latina moaned into her mouth and bit at her lower lip until it deliciously hurt.

"Fuck, how the hell can you kiss like that?" Santana asked, breathless. Rachel beamed as if it was a compliment, not the real question it was, and kissed her again, hungrier.

The Latina fumbled to find the end of Rachel's shirt and slid her hands inside it, feeling the warmth of the skin, the belly that contracted in her fingers, the chill that spread so fast. She moaned and went up to find what she knew she would; Rachel's breasts rough against the soft fabric of her bra.

Rachel groaned, feeling her nipples so hard they hurt, as if willing to trespass the bra to meet Santana's touch. No need, though, because before she knew it, the bra popped open and hot-smothering hands were cupping her breasts.

It never ever felt so good. Like Santana was only heat and she was only nerve endings. Her nipples throbbed in a way Rachel didn't even know before and she bit on her lip to contain a small cry when Santana freed her mouth to kiss her neck.

"Shit, Berry, you feel so good. Fuckin Christ, how that's even-"

"San! Just suck it!" Rachel whined, guiding the Latina's mouth to her breasts before she lost her mind completely. "Oh, fuuuck!"

That was not fucking possible. Her body rocked against the table as if it was about to explode. Rachel's head was swimming in waves of arousal as Santana closed her lips around her nipples and kissed and licked and sucked on them so in the right way... Was there a right way? She didn't know it before, but Santana's way was surely the right one.

Rachel couldn't remember if she had ever felt like that before. So turned on her whole body seemed awake and vibrating and pulsating and burning. She wanted it to last forever, but when Santana reached for her fly, Rachel knew she also wanted to let it go, to melt in the Latina's hand, to give in completely to her, to that feeling, to that awesomeness...

Rachel's clit was already pulsing Santana's touch welcome when...

"OH MY GOD, THIS DINNER SMELLS AMAZING!" Kurt's voice echoed from the living room.

Both girls jumped, startled, hearts racing. They exchanged just a meaningful look before Rachel ran away to her bedroom and Santana tried to look busy cooking. Kurt was there in seconds.

"Ready to go?" He asked as he placed the wine on the table.

"So ready." San mumbled to herself, turning off the flame.

Rachel came back a few minutes later, hair wet, smelling fresh, although her face was still pinky. They all sat down to eat, and Kurt seemed oblivious to the strange fact that he was doing all the talking, or that the girls were so off of each other's hair, or the looks crossing over the table, or the feet under.

When they finished dinner, Santana could swear she was about to melt into a mass of desire and horny thoughts.

Rachel licked her lip and smiled at the Latina as she carried the plates to the sink.

"Rachel, dear, why don't you leave the dishes to us?" Kurt said, bringing the cups. "You look like you can use some rest."

"See, that's a nice way to put things." The diva replied, eyeing Santana.

"Yeah, and I have in mind some nice ways to put you..." The Latina whispered as she passed by Rachel, who gulped.

"Actually, I could use some time in my room. In my bed..." Berry agreed with a tight smile.

Kurt nodded.

"Then off you go. We'll take care of it, right, San?"

"Right..." The Latina glanced at Rachel and gave her a crooked smile. "We'll be done here in a minute."

It actually took them seven minutes. Then Kurt vanished for a shower and Santana almost ran to Rachel's bedroom. She was, indeed, already in bed.

Sleeping.

Santana just stared at her for a minute. The room was full of her fresh smell. Sweet and suave, sexy and girly. Rachel was breathing slightly, lips barely open, perfectly in peace.

"BERRY, WAKE UP!"

Rachel bolted to a sitting position, as if ready to scream "Danger! Danger!". Then she laid eyes on Santana.

"How dare you sleep after that make out session in the kitchen?! That's so not the way I planned putting you to bed! Are you fucking kidding me? You can't do that to an honest woman - and to me either!"

Rachel half giggled, half gasped, before she leaned in, took Santana's hand and pulled her to bed.

"I'm awake." She murmured in San's ear, before sucking on the earlobe. "I'm wide awake."

"You better b-"

"Girls! Girls!" Kurt shouted from the hallway moments before he slammed the door open.

Santana was ready to literally kick him out, if necessary, but Rachel's cry stopped her.

"What happened to your face?!"

"I think I'm having some kind of allergic reaction!"

"You gotta be kidding!" Santana whined at him. But the boy's swollen face was evidence enough.

"I gotta go to a hospital!" He urged them, before hurrying out of the room.

Santana stared at Rachel, eyes still sparkling.

"He's a big boy, right? He can handle himself..."

Rachel sighed, looking from the Latina to the door and back. Then she got up, grabbed a coat and walked out the door.

"Dammit!" Santana swore. And followed her out.

* * *

It was true that Quinn had been working for them for only two weeks, but it was also true that she was used to that job for two years. And it wasn't like she was in charge of the important stuff, anyway. Not yet. She could handle a fucking barbecue anniversary party of some big fabric. Even if it was for five hundred people. It was a barbecue, for God's sake!

She didn't need a nanny.

She didn't need Patricia there.

It wasn't even her job; she worked with marketing, from the office. Reuben, Kelly, and now Quinn, were the field workers. The ones that managed the buffet and decoration sets, that ran the party as it happened.

Patricia had no apparent reason to be there.

But there she was. Stunning in a golden dress that didn't fit the barbecue at all. Her red locks were full, beautiful, matching her red lips as well as always.

The thing about Patricia was that Quinn couldn't really tell how pretty she was. Because she had an I'm-fucking-awesome attitude, fucking awesome she was. Sure, she had also a killer body; tall, big boobs, thin waist, wild mass of hair, wide light-brown eyes. She was not a classic beauty, though. She had a pointy chin, an angular nose, a really big mouth. But God, was she sexy.

The way she was looking at Quinn at that exact moment made a chill spread through the blode's arms and down her cleavage until it reached her breasts. It felt shamefully good.

And although that was supposed to be an uncomplicated night, Quinn found herself confused and lost in her orders to the waiters. Then walking around and forgetting where she was going. And mostly, she found herself wishing she could drink in the job.

Really, by the end of the party she was surprised by the fact all went well. And she was so, so relieved she could finally escape Patricia's stare and go home. As soon as she gathered her stuff, Quinn rushed to the exit, not wanting to bump into her boss one last time.

"Hey there, Fabray," A car stopped by the sidewalk as Quinn waved for a cab.

The blonde sighed even before she looked inside.

"Good night, mrs. Whalling," She gave Patricia a polite but dismissive wave. It didn't work.

"Get in."

"Oh, there's no need. There's a cab coming."

"Do you have a date?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you have any date to go to right now?"

"Ahm, no..."

"Then get in. I'll take you to dinner."

Quinn giggled for a second.

"I just left a barbecue."

"But you didn't eat."

"How do you know?" Quinn asked before she could stop herself.

The honest answer was, of course, that Patricia had spent half the night following her moves.

"You're obviously not a barbecue kind of girl," Patricia said with a smile.

"What makes you think that?"

"Please, darling, just get in. I can see in your eyes just how hungry you are." Patricia smiled again and Quinn gulped.

Good Lord, that woman was impossible to deal with.

"Thank you, mrs. Whalling, but I'm tired and..."

Patricia sighed, opened the door and got out. In a moment, she walked around the car and opened the door for Quinn.

"I bet you like Japanese food. And I know a great place. Come on, I can't just let an employee go home starving. Besides, it would be a great opportunity for us to talk about your future."

Quinn wet her lips, looking at the open door. Patricia's flirting smile had vanished for the moment, but she still had that confident, almost petulant posture. And, well, she had just watched Quinn making a fool of herself all night. Maybe that was why they should talk about her future. Maybe if Quinn could come up with a good excuse for being so away that night, Patricia wouldn't give a negative feedback to Reuben.

"Well, I do like Japanese food," She gave in. Patricia smiled and they both entered the car.

Quinn found out she was starving, after all. Patricia, on the other hand, seemed satisfied in standing there, watching Quinn eat some sushi. And by "there", Quinn meant "by her side". When they got to the table and Patricia sat beside her, instead of in front, Quinn knew going there had been a mistake.

Now they were close enough for the blonde to smell Patricia's perfume. And it was exactly how Quinn expected it to be; a sweet, expensive, slutish smell. Just about a favorite, for the blonde.

And, of course, there was all the touching. Legs that rubbed under the table, arms that brushed, hands that went to grab the same things at the same time, as if Patricia could predict Quinn's moves. Like a hunter and a pray.

Worst of all, Patricia seemed eager to get everything - anything - that was on Quinn's side of the table. To accomplish that, she would lean in until her breasts pressed Quinn's shoulder and her perfume took over. It came to the point that Fabray had to drag napkins, sauces, cups, drinks and all she could and place in front of Patricia so she would stop - Jesus, just stop - trying to reach anything.

Dinner was more exhausting than working.

"So..." Quinn said and hated herself for sounding husky. "You wanted to talk about my work?"

"Did I?" Patricia arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you said this dinner would be a good opportunity to talk about my future at the company."

"Did I?" She asked again, smiling.

No. Actually, she had never said that. Quinn closed her eyes for a moment and cursed mentally. _Idiot_.

"You did say you wanted to talk about my future."

"That's right."

"So?"

"I want to know how do you intend to spend the night."

"This night?"

"Yes, darling."

Quinn stiffened when she felt Patricia's hand rest on her knee. She was wearing social pants, but the heat coming from that touch was so strong it felt like naked skin brushing naked skin.

"That's the part of my future you wanted to discuss?"

Patricia smiled brightly.

"Call me a short-term planner."

"You work at marketing, mrs. Whalling."

"Patricia. It's Patricia, I have told you that."

"You make long-term plans for a living, Patricia."

"No, Quinn. That's how I work, not how I live," She looked Quinn in the eyes and her hand went up a bit.

"Are you sure? Marriage seems like a really long-term commitment to me," Quinn replied, raising her chin. That was crazy, that was going too far. She expected Patricia to get cold and back away, but then... her hand went up even more and Quinn gritted her teeth, feeling herself getting wet.

What was going on with her?

"I take that you have never been married, Quinn. It's a common mistake to think like you do. Marriage is the shortest of the short-term plans. We have to choose to go with it everyday, every moment. You have to do it over and over again so you can honor a marriage, but..." She smiled again, sweetly, invitingly. "We are here to discuss _your_ future."

"My future. Tonight."

"Yes."

Quinn swallowed hard. She wanted to, God, she wanted really bad to live in the moment. But the truth was that she was not that kind of girl. She wasn't one to throw years of work to waste because of one night. That night. As tempting as it was.

"I'll be home, Mrs. Whalling. I'll be home in thirty minutes, in bed in an hour. And soon I'll be sleeping. And tomorrow, you see, I have work to do."

Once again, Patricia didn't seem to be affected by the answer. As if she was expecting Quinn to say just that.

"Fair enough, darling."

Then her hand left Quinn's leg and the blonde's whole body made it clear there would be one more stage between "go to bed" and "go to sleep".

* * *

"One more?" Justin asked, the black card already going over the snow.

"Yes, one more," Santana nodded, the fifty dollars bill still a perfect straw in her hand. They both snorted one more rail, before cleaning each other's noses giggling as they got over that routine.

"You know, Miss Blue Hair asked for you," Justin said as they left the office and went back to the saloon where the loud music pumped the walls. He made a gesture, indicating Dani at the sound mixer.

"Yeah, don't really have the time today."

"Miss Delicious…" Justin teased her with a playful glare. "You're getting harder and harder to please. You'll end up a lonely bitter soul."

Santana just smiled at him, catching with the corner of the eye the two people that had just entered the club.

"I don't think so, man."

Rachel's eyes were attracted to her immediately, as if her body had some kind of GPS that was able to locate Santana amidst a crowd. There she was, near the bar balcony, looking so very hot in a tight black dress. The singer's stomach contracted in that way that was becoming familiar by now and she smiled.

"Santana is over there," She told Kurt, touching her friend's shoulder so they would walk up to the Latina.

They met halfway.

"So you're fine now?" Santana asked Kurt, arching an eyebrow. She was not sure she was ever going to forgive him for that allergy crisis, even if she was the one who caused it by forgetting he was allergic to coconut.

"Yeah, you failed to kill me this time," He replied, glaring at her. "I'm better."

"And there was nothing they could do about your face?" Tha Latina questioned, looking at Kurt's cheeks that were obviously back to normal.

The night before they had reached a scary size and color.

"Ha ha ha," Kurt rolled his eyes. "Be nice to me or I'll charge you with attempt of murder… With that attitude, you know I have a case."

Santana smiled, at last.

"Alright, what about this, tonight your drinks are on me."

"I think that's the very least you could do," He huffed her and got past both girls towards the bar.

As soon as he was gone, the air changed around them.

"You're tall," She told Rachel, taking a step closer. Jesus, was she crazy or Berry was giving off heat?

"I'm on high heels."

"My favorite ones."  
"Yes…"

"And you're using a very tiny skirt, Rachel."

"It's not that short…"

"I see what you're doing here, you know."

"Oh, do you?" Rachel smiled a mischievous smile that gave Santana the chills.

"Yes, you're trying to seduce me."

Rachel giggled, but it was a husky, calculated, sexy giggle.

"You're so vain."

"You're so hot," Santana replied, circling her waist with an arm and dragging her closer. When their bodies crashed together, Rachel gasped. "I want you."

Those big brown eyes stared at Santana in a way that could leave a burn.

"I… You… We… Should we go upstairs?" Rachel asked, biting on her lower lip. San's heart raced.

"Yes, yes, we should," She nodded, letting go of Rachel's waist to take her hand and pull her to the elevator.

Before she could do that, though, a third person got between them.

"Oh, thank God I found you guys," Quinn said, grabbing them both from the shoulders. "I need a drink. Ten drinks. I need to get drunk right now, and I need you." The girls looked blankly at her as the blonde pulled them through the dance floor towards the bar. "Where's Kurt?"

"Ahm…" Rachel opened her mouth, but Santana cut her.

"He's over there, go to him. Rachel and I are working something out and we'll be right there."

Quinn frowned looking from one to the other, her hazel eyes asking what the hell was going on. Luckily, she knew her friend better than to really ask the question.

"All right," She said, shrugging. "See you guys later."

This time, Santana didn't even wait for Quinn to get some distance before she dragged Rachel to the other side. Santana opened a door with her manager card and then they were at the back hallway of the club, in front of the elevator.

"Lopez!" A male voice yelled in the moment the Latina pressed the elevator's button.

"No," Santana spat at Jonah, as soon as the man crossed the back door. "No way, I don't wanna know, go back and figure it out."

The big man looked at the Latina, measuring her words. One glance at Rachel and he got pretty clearly what he was getting into.

"I'm sorry, but…"

"I don't wanna know!"

"Well, you'll have to, because your officer friend is in front, asking for you."

"What? Greg?"

"Yeah, Officer Bullshit."

"What does he want? He was here last week, we settled this month."

"Well, maybe he's saving up for his vacations, I don't know and I don't care. You won't want me to deal with that guy."

Rachel could feel Santana's whole body tensing up.

"Hey," She whispered, touching the Latina's arm. "You go, I'll wait."

"But…" San turned to her, the fire in her eyes leaving Rachel scorched.

"I know," Rachel smiled, holding her hand. "Believe me, I know." Since the night before, her body seemed to be constantly buzzing.

Santana sighed and turned to the security man.

"Tell him I'll be there in a sec."

"Lopez…"

"Fuck off, Jonah!"

The man rolled his eyes and left, slamming the door behind him, leaving the girls alone again. In a moment, Santana had Rachel against the wall, their mouths meeting to devour each other.

"Don't do that…" Rachel moaned as Santana pressed her thumbs against her nipples that got instantly tumid through the shirt fabric, since she wasn't wearing a bra. "It's torture."

"You want me to suck on them again?"

"_Yes,_" Rachel gasped into her mouth and Santana pressed her harder against the wall.

"Want me to bite them?"

"God, yes!"

"Then you'll wait for me, won't you?"

"I will."

"I won't be long…"

"Better not, or I'll go up and start without you," Rachel mumbled softly and Santana groaned before kissing her again.

Officer Bullshit waited longer than a sec.

"Should you be drinking?" Quinn asked Kurt, as they sat at the usual table on the VIP area.

"Yeah, no problem, I'll just probably get drunk faster because of the anti-allergy medicine."

"Then I envy you," Quinn told him, sipping her beer.

"Hard day?"

"Well, yeah, but I feel bad to say that since you've been hospitalized…" She chuckled at him and Kurt gave her a dismissive wave.

"Get it out, sis."

"Get what out?" Rachel asked, pulling a chair beside Kurt and smiling at them.

"My boss is driving me crazy!" Quinn vented. "And not for the reasons bosses usually drive their employees crazy!"

"What did she do now?" Kurt said, failing to hide the amusement in his voice.

"She took me to dinner and asked how I intended to spend my night."  
"Oh my God, you were on a date with your married boss?" Rachel asked, covering her mouth in a fake shock.

"It wasn't a _date_."

"But she took you to dinner and flirted shamelessly…"

"Well, yes…"

"That sounds like a date to me," Kurt nodded and he and Rachel rested against the chair like evil judgemental twins.

"Look, she said she wanted to talk about my future…"

"I see, like the positions you could occupy…" Kurt murmured.

"In her bed…" Rachel went on.

Quinn threw a napkin at them.

"Shut up!" God, she was really stupid. Even Kurt and Rachel got right away Patricia's intentions with that invitation.

"You know, you could sue her. For real. That's completely inappropriate of her, and if it makes you uncomfortable…" Kurt began and Quinn sighed.

"I don't think it makes you uncomfortable, does it, Quinn?" Rachel asked staring at her knowingly.

"Look, I'm just trying to do my job there. I won't sue anyone."

"Then just, I don't know, be incisive about your position on this," Kurt told her, a serious expression on his face. "Don't let her think for a moment that she'll be on top of the 69."

Rachel burst into laugh and Quinn punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch!" The boy rubbed his shoulder, chuckling. "Come on, let's go to the bar. Ryder said he would show up tonight, and I want to look for him."

"Oh, aren't you a little slut?" Rachel teased him as they stood up. "First Edward, now Ryder…"

"What do you mean, first Edward?" Quinn demanded, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, guess who showed up by the apartment today to visit our allergy boy over here?"

"Please!" Kurt rolled his eyes. "He's my friend, he was just being polite."

"He's a freaking _God_," Rachel mouthed to Quinn, that giggled.

"He's a friend!"

"A touchy friend."

"What?" Kurt turned to look at Rachel, narrowed eyes.

"I'm just saying… a lot of handshakes and shoulder taps and arm touching…"

"This is not even…"

"Calm down, Kurt," Quinn told him, smiling. "You're close friends, so what? I'm sure Rachel understands that since she and Santana have been so… intimate, lately."

It was Kurt's time to laugh as Rachel went red. But before the brunette could answer, a new pair approached them.

"Hey, gorgeous," Ryder said, touching Kurt's waist. "Hello, girls."

"Hey, Ryder," Quinn and Rachel waved at him.

"Quinn," A softer voice sounded and the blonde smiled fully.

"Marley."

"Have you met Rachel?" Ryder introduced his friend. "Rachel, that's Marley. Marley, Rachel."

"What a _great_ dress," Rachel smiled as she complimented the girl.

"Thank you," She blushed, eyes glancing at Quinn again.

Rachel looked around for a moment. Five people looked like too much. It was time for her to find her pair as well.

"I'll take a walk, see ya later."

All she got were vague waves.

"So you have the nerve to show up here after neglecting a straight order for two weeks?" Quinn narrowed her eyes at Marley.

"But I did not do such a thing, Your Majesty," The girl smiled sheepishly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure you never specified the Saturday I was supposed to show up."

Quinn frowned, then sighed.

"You're too smart for your own good."

"So I've been told," Marley giggled, eyes dropping to the floor, then coming up again to meet Quinn's.

"Let me buy you a drink."

"Is this an order?"

"No, it's my most sincere request."

Marley's smile got brighter, beautiful, before she whispered an oh-so-soft "Yes."

Santana talked to Officer Bullshit, then she got in the club again and was intercepted by Justin. It looked like the ice machine was broken. She went back to the office to take some money to send someone to go buy ice. Then Jonah showed up once more saying there was a minor celebrity playboy being an asshole to some girls in one of the VIP cabins. Santana had to politely and discretely get in the middle of it. And now it seemed like the fucking mixer was having some problems.

"What happened?" She yelled at Dani, over the loud music.

The DJ put down her headphones and smiled.

"Hey, stranger."

"What happened?" San asked again, getting closer to be heard.

"Oh, one of the cables spat sparks. I got scared, but Max changed it quickly and it all looks fine now," Dani explained to her, pointing at the mix of cables at her feet.

"Good," She nodded, turning in her heels. She felt like if she didn't find Rachel within the minute, her head was going to explode.

"Wait, wait," Dani called her.

San sighed before turning back to her.

"Hm?"

"So, my boss usually lets me out at 6," Dani said with a dirty smile. Her hand found Santana's waist with intimacy and slid fast to her ass, pressing it in a sexy way.

"Oh," San's eyebrows went up, and she only stood there for a moment. "Hm, Dani… Yeah, actually…. I kinda have a date tonight, so…"

"What?" She asked, not listening over the music.

Santana leaned in to say in her ear.

"I already have a date!"

"Oh!" Dani's hand dropped almost immediately. "I'm so sorry!"

Santana laughed.

"That's ok, I just…" She shrugged. Dani didn't look upset, but embarrassed.

"God, I'm really… I didn't know…"

Santana laughed again and shook her head.

"I promise it's ok," She placed a quick kiss on Dani's cheek and waved her goodbye as she turned again to the bar.

From the dancefloor, Rachel located Santana at the sound mixer. And she saw the hand on that booty. That booty where her own hand was, less than a hour ago. Santana leaned it, whispering something to the DJ. Then she giggled, looking really amused. A little kiss, a smile.

Rachel turned her back to the scene, feeling sick. Was that why it was taking Santana so long to deal with Officer Whatever? Because she was out and about flirting with other girls? The singer swallowed hard and started to open her way through the dancefloor.

Honestly, what did she expect? She knew very well Santana's way of life. She had been watching it for years. Why would it be different now? Just because they were friends? God, they were friends! Friends shouldn't even be making out like that, in the kitchen, in the hallways, like teenagers, not even caring to talk about it before they went too far.

Did they go too far already?

Rachel felt dizzy and something in her chest ached.

Santana couldn't just kiss her like that, press her like that, dirty talk to her like that and then go offering that gorgeous Latino booty around. It wasn't right. Rachel was not going to allow that kind of shit.

But… really, was it her place to allow anything? They were not girlfriends… They were not… anything. As far as Rachel knew, she could be just a one night stand to the Latina, as were so many others. And in the next morning the would be back to friends without benefits.

Was she willing? No, she wasn't. As she wasn't willing to let Santana make her feel like that either.

"Rachel?" A familiar voice broke into her thoughts, as hands touched her shoulders.

She looked up and frowned when her eyes found Finn's.

"Finn? What are you doing here?"

"Well," The guy shrugged, letting go of her shoulders. "That's the club Santana manages, right? Kurt mentioned you guys came in every weekend, so I thought I should stop by."

"Oh…" Rachel looked around, just then realizing completely that she was outside, by the sidewalk.

"Are you leaving?" Finn asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Ahm… I have a headache…"

"Oh…"

"I'm sorry, I should get a cab…"

"Let me help you," He said, turning to wave at the street.

"There's no need. You should go in, the guys are in there."

"No, I prefer to walk you home."

"Finn."

"Really, Rachel… It's late for you to get a cab alone to the other side of the city."

"But you just came in."

"I don't care. I can come back anytime," He replied as a car stopped by. He opened the door with a stubborn look on his face.

Rachel wasn't feeling like going into a fight.

"I'm not feeling well, I won't invite you in. I'm going home to sleep," She told him, standing in front of the door.

"Fair enough," Finn raised his hands with a soft smile on his lips.

Then they both got in. The door slammed shut and the car parted a second before Santana could call Rachel's name from the club's exit.


	5. My seat's been taken

Hello, sweethearts. I hope this chapter makes things more interesting for all of you. I want to give a special thanks to my friend Manu who always help me with queer stuff (I'm no good at it) and to my friend Mila who always points out my mistakes (I'm great at it). Thanks, ma gurls!

Have fun, people. I know I did. :)

* * *

**My seat's been taken**

Santana pressed the interphone button and didn't let go until an alarmed and pitchy male voice shouted:

"Who is it?!"

"Let me in!" She yelled back and the voice at the other side huffed before the gate clicked open.

"Who is it?" Rachel asked too, rubbing her eyes, a startled look on her face.

"Santana," Kurt replied, clearly pissed off. "You deal with her, I'm going back to bed," He vented, passing by the brunette and vanishing in the hallway.

Rachel sighed before walking to the door. She opened it to find Santana reaching for the doorbell. They both got a little startled by each other's sudden presence.

"Where is he?" Santana recovered first and shouldered Rachel aside to come in. "Where is the mother fucker?"

"What the hell? Kurt is back to sleep! It's 7 am in a Sunday!" Rachel barked at her, closing the door again.

"Not Kurt, Finn!"

"Finn?" Rachel frowned. "Why would Finn be here? Are you drunk?"

It was a rhetorical question. Santana was obviously drunk. And high.

"Don't play the smart ass with me, Berry! I saw you two leaving together!"

"He is not here and you shouldn't be either. Go home, go take a fucking shower!"

"Why did you leave?" Santana asked, taking a step forward. "Why did you do that? You said you'd wait for me!"

"Well, I got tired."

"You got _tired_? You got tired then you called fucking Hudson?"

"I didn't call Finn. And I shouldn't be explaining myself to you! Seriously, just go away, Santana."

Rachel turned on her heels and walked towards her bedroom. She could listen to Santana following her, though.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Berry?"

"With me? Who is being the smart ass now, huh? I saw you talking to that... blue-haired girl."

"What? Dani?"

"Yes, _Dani_," Rachel spat the name viciously.

"Yeah, I talked to her. She is my DJ and the sound mixer had some problems, so what?"

"And the solution was in your ass?"

"What are you talking about, for God's sake?" Santana shouted, her hair a dark mess around her face.

"I saw the way she was groping you, and you didn't seem to mind at all!"

"You are crazy!"

"Oh, shut up. Shut up and fucking leave me alone!" Rachel pushed Santana by the shoulders, trying to take her out of the room.

"Rachel, wait. Fuck, Rachel, just stop it!" The Latina grabbed Rachel's hands, lowering them from her shoulders. "Ok, alright, I slept with Dani."

The singer gritted her teeth and battled to get rid of Santana's grip.

"Just listen to me, dammit! Yeah, we slept together a few times since she began working at the club, but I was single then! It was just casual sex, it didn't mean anything and I didn't have anyone else!"

"What about tonight!?" Rachel retorted, her cheeks flustered.

"Nothing happened tonight."

"But I saw you two!"

"She made a pass on me, yeah, but only because she's used to do that when we don't have any other plans for the night. But I told her..." Santana finally let go of her wrists. "I told her I already had a date and she apologized and I left to look for you."

"You did?"

"Yeah! I spotted you at the door and when I got there you were going into a cab with Finn!"

"I just bumped into him outside. He wanted to get me home safe, that was all."

"Why the fuck did you leave?"

"Because... I thought..."

"_What_? That I would fuck another girl while you were supposedly waiting for me to come back?"

Rachel shrugged, averting her eyes.

"I just thought you were... being yourself."

She felt the change in the air without even looking at the Latina.

"Great. That's just great."

"Santana..."

"No, you were absolutely right in leaving," Lopez said, walking out the door.

It was Rachel's time to follow her back to the living room.

"Look, I was just upset..."

"And you should be," Santana glared at her, opening the door. "I would also be upset to spend my night waiting for someone who is that much of an asshole as you think I am!"

Then she slammed the door on her way out and Rachel just stood there, feeling the floor trembling under her feet.

* * *

"Wow," Edward said, still clapping, when Kurt returned to the table. "I had no idea you have a voice like that!"

"Well, I'm allowed a few secrets," Kurt smiled, trying not to blush as he took his seat beside Ed.

"No, I'm serious," The guy went on, filling Kurt's mug with beer. "That was amazing!"

"Thank you," Kurt sipped his drink, looking around.

A couple was on the stage now, singing an old Kelly Clarkson hit. The rest of their friends was going through some music options or just trashing the ones singing at the moment.

Kurt hadn't been in a karaoke bar in a while. It kinda got old after his first two years in NYADA. But when Edward invited him, he couldn't say no. He thought he would be saving a friend from a lonely night, but couldn't be more wrong.

Edward was with the _Green Leaf_ gang and they all seemed to be close friends, laughing and making internal jokes. Kurt wasn't sure why his presence there was even demanded, why Edward had called him to an occasion where he didn't even fit. But there he was, nonetheless.

"Don't _thank me_," Edward squeezed his shoulder for a moment. "Just tell me, Kurt. Why did you go to an art school and why do you have a voice like that… and you're not on Broadway."

Kurt laughed, shaking his head.

"It's really not that simple to get on Broadway, you know."

"I bet it wouldn't be that hard to someone like you."

"That's cute."

"I'm serious!" He hit his fist on the table for emphasis.

"Ok, well, I was on Broadway. Almost. I was almost on Broadway."

"What does that mean? What happened?" Ed leaned back on the chair, his eyes fixed on Kurt as if they were alone in the room. It was that look, that look that dragged everyone to his orbit.

"I was part of this musical, _The Broken Kids_. How ironic," Kurt mumbled to himself, touching his side absent mindly.

"So?"

"So we did the rehearsals and took it to Boston, for the previews. We were doing the tech rehearsals, that's when we try all the tech needed to the show, right? And there was this scene, where my character flew above the crowd… It took me a while to get used to be so high up, but I got over it… Until, one day…" Kurt shrugged and drank more beer, imagining the story was pretty much told.

Edward didn't seem to think so.

"What?" The look on his face was concerned now.

"I fell. The cable didn't hold, nor the security cable. I fell from ten feet and landed in the second row."

Ed pressed his lips together and reached for Kurt's arm, giving it a reassurance squeeze. Kurt looked at the gesture, Ed's big hand enveloping his arm. Rachel's voice echoed in his head for a moment. _A touchy friend. _

"Was it bad?"

"Well… three broken ribs, one of which pierced my spleen," Kurt said, with a sad smile, touching his side again. "One broken arm, one broken leg. One broken cheekbone," He went on, touching all the injured parts as he counted them. "Three broken teeth," He covered his mouth as if he still had a toothless smile.

"Kurt… I'm so sorry." Edward's voice was soft, full of compassion.

"Not your fault."

"You recovered well?"

"Yeah, fine. Spent sometime in the hospital, of course. Then I had to do physiotherapy. It took me a few months to get back dancing, and in the mean time my old boss from _Spark_ went to visit and offered me a job… It should be temporary, but… Two years have gone by."

"What are you afraid of?" The blonde man asked, his eyes studying Kurt.

"I'm not afraid of anything… It's just… I love my job."

Edward didn't seem convinced, as if he could read a different answer in Kurt's eyes.

"What about you? Do you love your job? Do you love New York already?" He turned the table, smiling encouragingly.

Edward looked down, shaking his head a little, just to let Kurt know he knew what he was doing.

"Yes, I do. I do love both of them. And I feel like I should thank you for both things. The job and the city… nothing would feel the same without you."

Kurt watched Ed reach for his hand over the table, but one of his colleagues called him and their fingers only brushed slightly before Edward turned away to answer.

When Cuddy turned again to face him, the butterflies in Kurt's guts had eased away.

"You probably miss your family, though?" Kurt said, sipping his beer. "It's always the hardest part, to move here and leave them there."

"Yeah, that's tough. I really miss my boy. They grow up so fast on that age, you know?"

"I don't, actually," Kurt chuckled. "You're my only friend with kids. Makes me feel like an adult."

"You mean old."

"I do not," He laughed when Ed narrowed his eyes. "You're not old, you don't act old."

"I guess you have only seen me away from my roles as father and husband. It's easier to be young like this. I… haven't felt it in a while," He said it like it was a confession of sorts. Like he felt guilty about it.

"You were eighteen, Ed. You're allowed to enjoy feeling young, you know."

"I know, it's just… Eileen never has this chance, I guess. _We_ were eighteen. And leaving off to college. Then she got knocked up and…" Ed trailed off, shrugging.

"Go on," Kurt encouraged him softly.

"I still got to go, you know? I went to college and I met new people, and now I got to come here… But she never left, she never did anything for herself since we made Raymond. Since we were eighteen she lives… for us."

Kurt had the impression that scared Edward, although he was not sure why.

"But you don't think she's happy?"

"No, I think she is. I mean, I try to make her happy. And Ray is a blessing. It's just that, sometimes I wish…"

Edward opened a down-hearted smile and shook his head.

"You wish it wasn't your job." Kurt whispered.

Ed didn't answer, at least not with words, but Kurt was getting pretty good in reading those green eyes.

* * *

"Do you want to come in?" Quinn asked with a smirk, holding Marley's hand a little longer.

"Don't you have a cocktail to get to?"

"Yeah, but I only have to be there in two hours, so you could come up, talk to me a little more," The blonde touched Marley's hair, placing a lock behind her ear and looking at her in a way that made the real invitation pretty clear.

"I guess I could," She replied and Quinn smiled fully before opening the gate.

It was their second date in two days, but Quinn wasn't worried about it. Marley was sweet and good to talk to. Not to mention, a really good kisser. Fabray couldn't help but wonder in what else she would be good.

"Do you want something to drink?" She asked very politely when they entered her small-but-cozy flat.

Marley shook her head no, looking at Quinn under her lashes, and that was all the invitation she needed. Before Marley could take a breath, Quinn's lips were on hers.

"Pretty sure that's not talking…" Marley whispered against her mouth.

Quinn bit on her lip.

"Sorry…"

"Not sorry?" Marley giggled and pulled her close again.

They stumbled their way to the couch, the kiss heating up. Marley had a floral kind of smell, something pretty girly, suave. Quinn remembered feeling it the other night, after they left The Asterisk. Under the alcohol, the fake smoke, there it was - something very Marley-ish.

They had talked until the sunrise, then Quinn had walked her home and they had kissed goodnight. And that was it. Quinn never said she would love to know Marley's apartment. Marley never invited her to. They had only kissed goodnight and went separate ways.

And maybe that was why they had met again eight hours later. And again that afternoon.

Quinn smiled when Marley's lips tentatively brushed her cheek and chin and earlobe, before going back to her mouth. It was so sweet, delicate, but thoroughly hot. She moaned softly, letting her hand slide from Marley's waist to her ass and pressing it slightly.

Then the brunette's touch slid through Quinn's arm until it reached her hand, and carefully dragged it back to the waist.

The gesture made Quinn break apart, startled. Wait. Did that really just happen?

"Ahm, I'm sorry…? I…" Fabray frowned, not sure of what to do or how to feel. That had never happened to her before. She felt like she was in High School again. No, she felt like she was in a parallel universe, where she was a horny teenage boy in High School, dating the kind of girl she used to be.

"That's… That's ok… I just…" Marley's cheeks were so flushed Quinn felt even worse.

"I didn't mean to…"

"I just… You know, I rather take things slow…"

Quinn wondered how slow she meant, since touching asses over the clothes didn't even count as base two. It was not like she was expecting them to have sex on the couch at the second date, when she had to leave in a hour, so… What the hell was that?

"Ok…" Quinn nodded, getting up. "I should probably go take a shower and get ready for work."

"Right. Sure. Ok… I better go."

"I'll call you," Quinn mumbled as they walked to the door.

"Alright, ahm…" Marley scratched her neck, then placed a peck on Quinn's lips. "Bye."

"Bye," Quinn waved before closing the door.

_What the fuck was that?_

* * *

Kurt woke up gasping. The hand around his cock seemed to have followed him out of the dream.

"So that's the thing about sleeping in?" Ryder asked, holding him tight, almost too tight. Kurt contracted his muscles, seconds away from coming, and felt Ryder's grip relax a little, although not letting go.

Kurt struggled to remain still.

"I have to sleep," Ryder complained. The room was still dark.

"Then why don't you?" Kurt replied. His cock throbbed in Ryder's hand.

"Because it's fucking impossible when you're rubbing at me like this!"

"Are you mad at me?"

His hand started moving and Hummel's voice broke at the end.

"Very mad," The guy said, a smile on his voice, kissing Kurt thoroughly. "I have to sleep, I'm exhausted."

"Then go to-" He was interrupted when Ryder's head disappeared under the sheets. "No, Ryder... I can't... Fuck!"

Kurt's body tensed up, so close to exploding it seemed impossible to talk, to think, to breathe.

"You're not old enough to know this kinda thing!" He hissed and heard Ryder's muffled laugh. But it only lasted a moment.

In the next couple minutes, Kurt didn't even remember he shouldn't make much noise. And that seemed to let Ryder really happy.

His head was spinning, his throat dry, when Ryder came up again. He placed Kurt's left leg on his shoulder and extended a hand to the bed table, taking a condom and opening it quickly.

"I thought you were exhausted," Kurt gasped when Ryder entered him.

"I was, but you..." He started moving his hips and for a moment Kurt lost himself in the sensation.

He kept his eyes open, staring at Ryder's tense and slim body in the dark, taking him in until the very limit.

Then Ryder moaned against his lips, shivering on top of Kurt.

"I'm coming... I'm coming..."

Kurt nodded and started touching himself, needing only a few moments to get there too.

And when Ryder laid beside him, kissing his neck and breathing heavily against his skin, Kurt tried not to remember green eyes, stunning smiles and blonde hair. He tried not to remember the dream.

* * *

"What now?" Santana barked as she opened the door for Rachel.

Two days had passed since the Latina had stormed out of the apartment. Rachel wasn't sure of what was the next step for them. Or if it should even be one. But then she found herself there.

"I wanna talk."

"Can't. I'm in the middle of my morning orgy."

"Well, it's already afternoon."

"What can I say? It's taking a little too long to get all the girls satisfied," Santana gave her a smirk, then started closing the door.

Rachel stopped her.

"Let me in."

"What do you want?"

"To talk. Please?"

Santana narrowed her eyes. She was still mad, even madder because it had taken Rachel two days to come around and she was not even in her knees begging for forgiveness.

But at least she was there. Lopez would never tell, but she had been waiting for Rachel to be there, at her door, for too long now.

The Latina sighed before backing away from the door. Rachel came in and closed the passage behind her.

"What do you want to talk about? Any more misplaced accusation?"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said..."

"Well, I have been thinking a lot about the things I _didn't_ say, like that you're a moron."

"Can you just shush and let me talk? _God_."

"Don't _God_ me!"

"When you said you slept with Dani before..."

"_Way_ before."

"Right. You said 'I was single then'."

"So?" Santana raised an eyebrow, defiantly. Rachel bit on her lip, trying to contain a smile.

"It kinda sounds like... you meant you're not single now," She said, at last, and Santana frowned.

"I never said that."

"Well, those were your exact words. 'I _was_ single _then_'."

"So what?"

"Does it mean you don't think you're single now?" Rachel took a step closer and Santana took a step back.

"What the fuck is even your point? You got all crazy and left, then you pointed your weirdly long finger at me and now it took you two days to analyse my word choice in one random sentence?"

"It's not random," Rachel shook her head. Santana wasn't sure she liked that crooked smile on her face. "I've been upset, ok? Trying to understand what is this between us, what is this for you, and then... I remembered this..."

"I didn't mean anything!"

"Yeah, but maybe you did?" Rachel took another step forward. San tried to back away, then found herself propped against a wall. "Maybe you meant you think you're in a relationship now? With me?"

"You're delusional, Berry."

"San," Rachel took the last step that let her inches away from the Latina. She raised her hands to the first button of the blue shirt Lopez was wearing. "I'm sorry for that night."

"I don't accept your apologies," Santana vented, but did nothing to stop her when Berry opened the first button and moved to the second one.

"I shouldn't have left. I should've talked to you..." She had opened enough of the shirt to spot that Santana was wearing a white cotton bra under it, and it looked so sexy against her caramel skin...

"Yeah, you should," The Latina agreed, hating how shallow her voice sounded. She had been cornered. And now was being completely seduced by Rachel Fucking Berry.

"I'll try to be a better girlfriend..." Rachel whispered, her eyes staring at San's breasts for a long moment before going up to meet dark irises.

"You're not my girlfriend."

"I could be."

"You don't trust me, and..." She trailed off when Rachel's lips brushed her collarbone.

"That's just because I know you too well..."

Santana chuckled, unwillingly.

"And nevertheless you want to be my girlfriend."

Rachel placed her arms around Santana's neck and nodded.

"Yes, I do."

The Latina let the air out, softly, then lowered her head to meet Rachel's mouth. She was delicious to kiss, those lips the most juicy sexy thing. And Rachel, somehow, was always so hot, like feverish, making Santana heat up in a rush.

"Ok..." Lopez moaned lowly against her lips. "I guess we could be girlfriends."

"Great. No more casual sex with the DJ."

"Oh," Santana narrowed her eyes at Rachel. "Now I see your point."

"I have many others," Rachel replied, pulling her in for another kiss.

"Yeah, I wanna know them all, but first I really think we should fuck."

"How romantic!"

"Sorry, I meant, we should really make love."

"Of course you did," Rachel rolled her eyes and Santana chuckled, before reversing their positions, pressing Rachel against the wall.

They kissed again, a harsh, famished kiss. Santana sucked on Rachel's lip until she groaned, her hands pressing Rach's waist hungrily.

"Maybe we should wait?" Berry whispered huskily when Santana freed her mouth to suck on her neck.

"What?"

"Maybe we shouldn't do it just now... We just... We should figure out more about our relationship first?"

Santana's head snapped up.

"Are you serious?"

"Well, I just don't think it would be a nice precedent to start our relationship by trying to fix things with sex."

"But we just started! What is there to fix already?"

"We were pretty mad at each other these days."

"But we're not anymore!"

"I'm just _saying_..." Rachel breathed in deeply. "Maybe it would be good to put some thought into it before we dive in for good?"

"_Jesus_," Santana shook her head in disbelief. "Can we at least kiss? Cause right now I don't see much advantage in being your girlfriend from being your friend!"

"Yes, of course we can kiss," Rachel rolled her eyes, her hand immerging in Santana's hair and bringing her closer.

Santana's mouth took over hers, giving, demanding, leaving Rachel shivering in her arms.

"What about this?" San asked, thrilling kisses down her neck. "Can I do this?"

"Yes... I guess that's ok..." Rachel whispered, eyes closing while chills danced through her skin.

"Can I touch your back?"

"Uhuh..." Santana's hand was smothering, touching her under the shirt, going up to unclip the bra. "_San_..."

"What? I have done it before, there's no point denying it now."

Rachel thought she had a point. Then those hands were framing her breasts under the bra and the thumbs rubbed her hard nipples. Berry moaned, feeling all hot, the point between her legs pulsing.

"I'll kiss your breasts now..." Santana mumbled into her ear. "Just because, you know, we already did it, so it's no rushing things... ok?"

"_Ok_... ok... oh, fuck..."

"Harder?"

"Yes, please... aah!"

"I'll bite a bit, ok? Just once?"

"Ok... _San_!"

"Ok, that was twice, sorry..." But she didn't sound apologetical at all.

"Kiss me," Rachel moaned, and Santana came up to swallow her lips again.

"Rach... I don't mean to be impatient, but I think it's only fair if you do me... Because my nipples are so hard right now they are throbbing..."

"Oh, God."

"It's only fair..."

"Yes. Yes, you're right," She nodded, her trembling fingers already working on unbuttoning the shirt, then unclipping the bra.

"SHIT!" Lopez cried out when Rachel sucked on her left nipple with no kindness.

Jesus fuck, when did breasts became so goddamn awesome to touch? She had always had them and just now they decided to wake up and be giving off shocks of arousal? Was Rachel's mouth some kind of electric point? Like, it had always felt good with other girls, but _fuck_, she was getting so wet right now it was embarrassing.

"This is so good, how is this so good?" Rachel moaned, licking around the tumid nipples in circles. "So sexy. God, you're so sexy, your breasts are so sexy..."

Santana groaned and pulled her by the hair, dragging her up.

"You gonna make me lose my mind."

"I'm sorry?" But Rachel was smiling and Santana could only kiss her again, moaning in her throat.

"Rach... what exactly counts as sex to you?" She asked, her hands in the hem of Rachel's skirt, pulling it up slowly. "It's a concept that varies a lot between lesbians... I mean..."

Santana pulled the skirt to her hips and forced a leg between Rachel's tights.

"If I just put my knee here, it couldn't possibly count as..."

"Oh, fuc- hmm."

"Yes, rock against me, Rachel..."

"Not fair..."

"Let me just..." Lopez slipped her hand between her own leg and Rachel's sex, reaching for her panties. "Fuck, Rachel, you're so wet!"

"It's your fault!" She cried in a high voice.

"Let me just put this aside for you..." Rachel moaned when San pushed the panties aside and her sex brushed against Santana's knee directly. "God, you're so fucking hot and wet! You're letting my knee wet right now!"

"I'm throbbing, it hurts..."

"Just move your hips..."

"San!"

Santana grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head before kissing her hard.

"I'm not even touching you, that's not rushing. Just move your hips, it'll make the hurting stop, right?"

Rachel howled as she gave in and lied around on San's knee.

"This feels _so_ good, Rach."

"Stop talking!"

"But why, I love to feel you all wet rubbing on me like this..."

"Fuck! _Fuck_!" She was coming before Santana could blink twice.

"Hmm," San mumbled into her hair when Rachel's body relaxed against the wall. "Look at who rushed now..."

"Shut up," Rachel gasped, pushing her away, grabbing her hand and dragging her through the hallway. "Let's fuck."

Santana smiled.

"How romantic!"


	6. Asking about a scar

To everyone who follows and faves: thanks a lot. :)

To Gab: here's your new chap. :P

And could y'all please let me know what you guys think about the development, so far? It always help!

XX

* * *

**Asking about a scar**

_Still up for tonight? _\- Quinn read at her phone's screen. For a moment, she played with the idea of saying no. No, they were not up for tonight. She would give any excuse. Then she wouldn't have time to reschedule for a week. Before she knew it, Marley would be just a forgotten number at her whatsapp.

_Yeah, sure. See you there at 9. - _She sent back instead. Because, well, she would be damned if she was the kinda person who did that kinda thing. And also because Marley was too cute to be dumped.

Not only, you know, physically cute. Although she was, she was hugely cute. But she had a great personality too. Quinn was pretty sure they would be over after that awkward moment at her flat, the week before. But then Marley proceeded to send her the sweetest kitty videos available on the internet, as if she felt like she had to compensate for something. Quinn didn't like that idea, so she agreed to meet her again.

Long story short: they were still dating.

"Hey, Quinn," A familiar voice called her, and the blonde raised her head to find Patricia's eyes on her.

"Hey."

"What do you prefer?" She asked promptly, showing her two banners. They were both publicity pieces for a Food Truck Festival that would happen in two months. One was more familiar, a photography of the last festival and young people eating and laughing. The other was a little more stylish, with some pulp influence, looking like a movie poster.

Quinn got up from her table and got closer to better analyse the arts. Patricia's perfume was very light that day, but Fabray could still feel it. It made her skin prickle.

"I like the pulp one," She said, at last.

"Yeah, me too, but we are outnumbered," She sighed dramatically. "I'll ask Reuben. Still counting the votes." Patricia smiled, then left.

Just like that. Not a mischievous smile or a dirty look. Not a flirting word. Nothing. Since Quinn had said the firm "no" at the japanese restaurant, that was how their relationship worked. Very professionally. Like nothing had ever happened.

_Because nothing has ever happened_, Quinn reminded herself. _Nothing but a drunk peck in a stranger in a hotel bar. _

Fabray sat again, scrolling through her emails, not paying much attention. She didn't want to admit it, not even for herself, but between that cool Patricia behavior and Marley's prudish system of dating, she was feeling really… undesirable.

She knew she was pretty, of course, but being pretty was hardly everything. Quinn wasn't feeling _sexy_. Probably because she didn't have sex for months now. Fucking _months_. All she got was that marvelous slutty perfume Patricia wore, and Marley's hungry kisses that couldn't go forward.

Quinn missed the way Patricia used to provoke her, how she would get home wet and horny and masturbate while wondering if her redhead boss was doing the same. Now she didn't wonder. Patricia had obviously moved on. And, sure, that was for the best.

Quinn just wished it hadn't been so easy.

* * *

Santana was busy; Mr. Solowitz, the owner of The Asterisk, would be visiting the club in two days and she had a lot of charts to put together. It was not exactly a problem, since the club had reached the monthly financial goal, which was 18% over the year before. But anyway, it was a pain in the ass.

And everyone got nervous, as if father was coming home to judge the kids' behaviors. Santana wasn't worried about it. She had put together a nice team, and Mr. Solowitz rarely made any questions, if the finances were in order. Which they were.

She guessed that was what made people nervous around there. They didn't really trust the Latina had the shit together. Justin wouldn't stop asking if she needed help finding this or that invoice. Jonah paced the floor outside her office like a watchdog. Now even Dani was being extra helpful. Pathetic.

Santana was actually very good at the administration, and her methods - although chaotic - worked just fine.

"Hey, there," Dani said, opening the office's door slightly. "Got a moment?"

"Not if you're gonna offer to help me tot two plus two again."

Dani snickered and shook her head.

"No, I figured you get your game going well," She smiled and Santana leaned in her chair, arching an eyebrow.

"Then what?"

"Hm, your ex is outside asking for you."

"Wanessa? Are you kidding?"

"Nope. Jonah didn't let her in, and he wouldn't even tell you, but I don't know… the girl seems pretty upset."

"I bet she does," Santana spat, rubbing her forehead. "She didn't show for weeks, I hoped she got over. _God_."

"Well, I don't mean to pry, ok? But maybe you should give her a minute."

"Really, you don't know her. I spent months trying to get rid of her, and a minute now could put all to waste."

_And now I have Rachel_, she thought. That she wouldn't risk because of Wanessa.

"Ok, then. Sorry to interrupt," Dani replied, before closing the door again.

Santana sighed, looking at the paper pile in front of her. What the fuck that crazy was doing there? It was a tuesday, the club wouldn't open. And it was barely past noon. Not Wanessa's MO at all.

Sighing again, the Latina stood up and went to meet her outside.

Wanessa was sitting at the gutter, and Dani was crouched beside her, talking softly, but the black girl only shook her head in a stubborn way.

"No! I don't want a cab! I wanna talk to her!"

"_Wanessa_," Santana more hissed than called.

The black girl's neck snapped back and her eyes met San's. When she tried to get up, stumbling on her own feet and needing Dani's help not to fall back to the gutter, Lopez began to understand the DJ's insistence.

Wanessa didn't seem at all like the girl Santana knew; her eyes were red and swollen; her hair had a dirty aspect; the clothes were just plain filthy, puked and stained.

"Hey, Miss Delicious," She smiled lazily and Santana rolled her eyes.

"What happened? What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was around…" Wanessa made a vague gesture. "At the Lila's open bar, you know? Great party. I bet this place was empty, because there was packed."

"Wanessa, the open bar was Sunday. Are you kidding me? You haven't been home in two days?"

The black girl shrugged, then her eyes filled with tears.

"I miss you so much."

"Oh, shit," Santana pressed her eyes. "Come on, let's go upstairs. You'll take a shower, drink some water, then you'll fucking go home!" She held Wanessa's arm and started guiding her inside.

"Do you need any help?" Dani asked from the sidewalk.

"Don't think so, but thanks."

They got to the flat and Santana helped Wanessa into the shower and into new clothes. She tried not to think about what Rachel would say about she having Wanessa there again. Naked. Drugged. Clingy.

"Ok, you look better now. Do you feel better?"

"I always feel better around you, baby," Wanessa mumbled, trying to get hold of San's arms.

"No, stop that, ok? We're not together, Wanessa. Shit. You know that."

"You always say that, but you always come back to me. You love me."

"No, I don't!" She snapped. "I don't love you, and you don't fucking love me! You barely even know me! And what you did know about me, guess what? You didn't like 90% of it!"

"Don't say that! I'm crazy about you, come here…" She stumbled forward and Santana backed away, opening the door.

"Go away. I've had enough of you. You are impossible to talk to, you just want to be that damn crazy chick. I don't have time for this anymore."

"Don't be like that, baby…" Wanessa touched San's face, smiling a stoned smile.

"I'm not your baby. Just go." Santana moved away from her touch.

Wanessa's expression changed in a moment.

"Who do you think you are?!" She yelled, infuriated. "Do you think I'm gonna put up with your crap forever?"

"I'm hoping you don't."

"I've had enough of your attitude already!"

"Oh, one can dream…"

"I don't even fucking know what I saw in you!" She cried before storming out the door.

"That's exactly my point!" Santana spat at her back, before slamming the door shut. "Fucking crazy."

* * *

Kurt was finding it difficult to avoid Edward's eyes. Though not as difficult as it was looking at them, on that specific afternoon. Because every time their eyes met, Kurt remembered how Ed had stared at him in the dream. The tenth dream that week.

It was getting out of control.

"So, you know Patrick, right?" Edward asked casually as they sat at a table in the restaurant where they usually had lunch.

"Patrick…?"

"Patrick Bates, from _Goal One_," That was the sports magazine, which Kurt knew nothing about. "Come on, you met him on the karaoke the other night. The haitian guy?"

"Oh, right."

Kurt couldn't really keep up with Edward's network. He seemed to know everyone from everywhere. But he thought he knew who Patrick was. Big guy. Hairy guy. Gay guy. A perfect bear.

"We were talking, these days, and your name came up."

"Really?" Kurt arched an eyebrow.

"Yeah, he was pretty impressed by your singing that night. I mean, of course, because it _was_ pretty impressing."

Hummel rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile.

"Sure, I bet," Kurt said playfully, browsing the menu.

"So, he said his boyfriend had this friend…" Edward's voice became hesitant and Kurt smirked. The conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

"What friend?"

"Well, a friend he said to be a really good actor."

"_Ok,_" Now Kurt was just plain curious.

"I don't mean to intrude, you know, but I got this phone number…" Edward groped his suit, then took out a small blue card.

"Look, Ed," Kurt interrupted him, in an amused tone. "If you're somehow trying to set me up on a date, I should tell you I actually have someone."

"What?" Cuddy seemed confused for a moment, his hand stopping midair, the card hanging loosely on his fingers. "Wh- I… You do?"

"Yeah, I mean, I wouldn't call him a boyfriend. Not yet, at least. But, yes, I have someone."

"_Oh_."

It was the look on his face. Later, Kurt would try to convince himself he had imagined it. That it was never there. But there it was. Like Ed had been punched in the chin, like Kurt had said something shocking, disturbing, and he needed a moment to take it in.

"But, you know, thanks for the effort," Kurt murmured, because the silence felt flammable.

"Ahm, actually… Well, I wasn't trying to set you up on a date. This number is of an agent. Patrick's friend's agent. He said the guy is pretty cool and has a lot of contacts and stuff. I thought maybe you could talk to him," Edward finally put the card in front of Kurt.

Yes, it really was a business card of an agent. Kurt felt his cheeks growing warm.

"Oh… Why… Why did you get me an agent number?"

Edward shrugged.

"Isn't that what artists do?"

"Ed…"

"Come on. I'm just saying, maybe you should give him a call, that's all. If you're interested."

Kurt sighed heavily.

"I rather you had set me up on a date."

"Well, you already have a _boyfriend_, but you don't have an agent," He replied, averting his eyes.

Kurt wondered if he had pointed out the word 'boyfriend' on purpose, for him to deny it, to say - again - it wasn't properly a _boyfriend_. That it was just someone. But Kurt didn't deny. Instead, he said, "Ryder."

"I'm sorry?"

"His name is Ryder."

And that look again. Damn it. Kurt's stomach lurched, and he felt a distinctive sting under his pants. Jesus, that wasn't right.

"Ok," Edward said, shrugging. "Just give the agent a call, will you?"

Kurt wouldn't, but he was happy as he put the card away on his bag, nonetheless.

* * *

"We are a month away from the previews," Bernard said, eyeing his cast. Rachel felt a chill spread through her back in excitement. A month away. Only a month away from her dream. "I expect all of you to be extra attentive on those last weeks, and incorporate the changes made on the past few days. I don't want to deal with any acting problem during tech, got me?"

They all shook their heads obediently. That shouldn't be a problem. All the numbers were well rehearsed and the cast worked really good together.

"If from now on any of you forget to wear a fucking scarf, a fucking condom, a fucking seat belt, or whatever, and anyhow get disabled to be on the show…"

"God protect us from your wrath," They all mumbled in unison, then laughed together. Bernard chuckled too.

"Yeah, good that you know. Now go home and have some rest," He said, waving dismissively at them.

Rachel tiptoed to the exit, wondering if her director could guess, just by looking at her, that she wasn't going to do either. She was not going home, she was going to Santana's. And she very much doubted she'd get any rest. Another chill danced through her back and Rachel bit on her lower lip, smiling to herself.

She made small conversation as her fellow actors left the building together, and Sebastian took the subway by her side, but Rachel couldn't pay real attention. She was already on Santana-mode. That was all she could think about.

Santana had given her the keys the week before, so she didn't have to ring the bell to enter the building or the flat on top of the club. As soon as Rachel walked in, she heard the shower. For a moment, she thought about joining the Latina; warm water, burning skin.

But instead Rachel walked to the bedroom and sat on the bed, silently, waiting for her to come out. And when she did, wrapped in a pink towel, Berry thought it was worth resisting.

"Rach!" Santana cried out, startled. "What the fuck! I didn't hear you come in."

"I sneaked on you," She said, smiling. "In case you were missing a sociopath girlfriend."

"Well, I'm not," Santana rolled her eyes.

"You sure? Bringing her home and everything?" Now that the memory had come back, Rachel wasn't so amused.

"She was in really bad shape, I felt kinda sorry for her," Lopez said, shrugging. "Then she went all crazy on me and I kicked her out."

"All crazy?" Rachel frowned. Oh, if that bitch had touched her woman again…

"Yeah, screaming and shit. You know her. She has problems."

"But she is not _your_ problem. Not anymore," Rachel pointed out, pouting.

"You think I don't fucking know?" Santana spat. "But the girl shows up all doped and puked over... I don't know, she needed help."

They looked at each other for a moment, then Rachel let her shoulders drop.

"You're a good person," She said, at last, and Santana rolled her eyes again.

"Tell me something I don't know."

Lopez finally approached the bed and let Rachel wrap her arms around her. The singer brushed her face against the towel fabric and Santana touched her hair. Then Rachel was pulling her down and throwing her in bed. The towel fell open and her skin ruffled in expectation.

"How was the rest of your day?" Rachel asked in a husky voice, as her eyes wandered through Santana's naked body.

"Pretty shitty. You now Mr. Solowitz is coming in two days, and people around here think I'm incompetent or something," She complained, the voice as tense as her body. "Like, I always have everything in order, but they act like I'm a moron that needs help separating the monthly invoices. I know my office looks like bureaucracy hell, but I- _Rachel_!" Santana gasped as Berry's mouth brushed her pussy.

"Keep talking," Rachel told her.

"I can't talk when you're…"

"Sure you can. It's just that it sounds like a stressing day."

"It was."

"Then keep talking," She insisted.

Santana took a deep breath.

"So I mostly put some charts together, because he - _ooh, god_ \- ...he likes charts for everything. But I… I'm not - _fuck, Rachel!_ ...I'm not worried because... the finances are fine… Justin thinks he'll say something… something about the police bribery, but he's not a silly man… Jesus fuck, what are you even doing down there?"

Santana moaned, her hands diving into Rachel's hair and pulling a handful, as her body arched.

"Tell me about your day, San."

"My day was shit! I much prefer my night! Fuck! _Yesss_. Rachel… Oh, God. No, no, no," Santana panted, her nails now clouting Rachel's neck. "Don't do that! Not that! Don't, _fuck!_"

San's body began to shiver as waves of arousal assaulted her at once. She cried out, in the verge of coming, when Rachel stopped.

"Rachel! You promised you wouldn't... not that..." She whined, not sure if because Berry had started or because she had stopped.

"Then tell me about charts and invoices and late deliveries..."

Santana breathed in deeply, trembling. Rachel went back to taste her, softly.

"I... I... made a list of the problematic booze distributors and- oooh, yess! Aaah, Rach!" Santana's eyelids fluttered as her legs contracted in pleasure. Her clit was throbbing so bad, as if her heart had moved down. "I'll tell Mr. Solowitz we should... Rachel! Fuck! Not fucking that! You promised! _Fuck_!"

The orgasm took her so fast and hard her body bolted forward, her hips moving against Rachel's mouth in despair. When she fell numb again, the whole room seemed be red and hot.

"You bitch," She gasped as Rachel went up to kiss her lips, smiling. "You said you wouldn't do that."

"Why, just because it makes you come in ten seconds?"

Santana didn't reply, but yeah, that was why. It was pretty embarrassing.

"Turn around," Rachel said in a rough voice. Santana arched an eyebrow, gulped, but didn't hesitate. She never did when Rachel used that voice.

Berry took hold of the towel and quickly rolled it into a straw, which she placed under the Latina, before getting rid of her own clothes and straddling her ass.

"Shit!" Santana moaned from under her, as Rachel started to move.

"God, this is _so good_!"

She sped up, her hips going back and forth, every stroke making Santana rub against the towel. Their moans echoed through the room as their pace got unbearable. And when Rachel felt Santana's ass contracting under her, she knew the Latina was coming again, and it was impossible to hold a second longer.

They came together, screaming, and it was like nothing else in the world mattered at all.

* * *

Quinn applied the make up very carefully, skirting her eyelid and drawing a perfect cat eyeliner. She stared at herself, tilting her head to check if both eyes were the same. Then she put on the lipstick, the earings and, at last, she took the dress out of its case.

That night - as in most nights - she had a cocktail to attend, but she wasn't going to manage the party this time, although the Whalling Co. was the responsable for the organization. No, tonight Quinn would be there to _make contacts_. To be _political_. Because it was, actually, a political cocktail, with the mayor, the aldermen and all.

As Reuben and Patricia had a personal commitment for the evening, Quinn and Albert - who was Reuben's pupil - had been called into service. The blonde wasn't sure why the hell she had been picked, since she was far from being as political or captivating as Patricia was. But the more Fabray looked at herself in the mirror, the more she got it.

Albert would play the political part - she would be the pretty little thing on his arm. Oh, hell, no. She'd be damned if she didn't leave that party with a few meetings set up.

Quinn got a little startled when the door opened suddenly. Patricia appeared at the threshold, her eyes fixing on Quinn.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were in here," She said apologetically, and made a gesture to leave and close the door.

Quinn didn't think, she just said, "No, don't." Then Patricia stopped midway, seeming confused, and the blonde wet her lips before going on. "I mean, don't leave, please. I… Actually, I'll need help with the dress. You think you could…?"

"Sure," The redhead nodded. "Of course, dear. Do you want me to wait outside while…?"

"No need," Quinn smiled at her. "It'll only take a minute." Then she proceeded to undress.

At first, to be fair, Patricia tried to look somewhere else. But soon enough it got clear that Quinn was taking a bit too long to complete the process, folding her clothes as she took them off, putting them away in the bag.

"I didn't know you would dress up in here," Patricia commented, her voice casual, but her eyes now following Quinn's every move.

"I had a bunch of things to do, so I thought it would buy me sometime if I just changed quickly around here," Quinn explained, putting the dress on, at last.

"I see," Patricia smiled, taking a step forward on cue, as Quinn turned her back to her.

Quinn closed her eyes as the woman's heat emanated to her back, and the perfume made her light-headed. Patricia took her time closing the zipper, then she touched Fabray's shoulder delicately.

"Have fun tonight, dear," She whispered, before backing away.

Quinn had to hold on a sigh.

"Patricia," She called as the woman reached the door.

"Yes?"

"How does it look on me? The dress?" Fabray asked, staring at the redhead's eyes intently.

"Gorgeous," She replied with a cool smile.

It wasn't the answer Quinn was looking for, and she had the feeling it showed on her face. Maybe she would never know why, but the whole bathroom felt hot and steamy. Her heart was racing and the point between her legs started to pulsate as if something rawly sexual was happening.

But it wasn't, was it?

Patricia didn't look away, and they stayed like that for countless seconds. At that moment, there was not a thing about her that Quinn didn't want to absorb, to drown herself into. Those red locks, those gleamy eyes, that tasteful mouth. Patricia was sex appeal in the shape of a woman.

She was, as Quinn had thought many times before, like a tiger. And, fuck, did she miss being her prey.

"Thanks," Quinn finally whispered.

Patricia gave her a smirk, a smirk of a huntress.

"But it looks even better off of you," She added softly, but didn't stay to witness Quinn's relieved smile.


	7. I know I gave it to you months ago

Hello, everyone! I want to apologize in advance for any errors in this chapter. I just finished it like right now and I wanted to post it soon. I don't know why, I just did. So I'm sorry that I haven't really read it again to tide it up. I'll do it later.

Anyway, as you'll notice, this chapter is really big. But I kinda like it. I was anxious to write it and now I'm anxious to know what you think of it. For those of you who ship Quinn/Patricia, I promise I won't let you guys down, ok? hahaha Just be a little patient with me, darlings!

Thank you for following and favoriting and reviewing and stuff. :)

* * *

**I know I gave it to you months ago**

Santana checked on her phone again, reading Rachel's messages for the tenth time.

_I miss you already._

_I wish you were here. _

_Do you promise you'll call me if you feel alone?_

Yes, she missed Rachel too, although Berry had left town only the day before. And that first message she had replied. But the other ones? She didn't know exactly what to say.

_I don't wish I were there._

_I'm already alone, you knew I would be, but you ain't here anyway._

No, Santana didn't feel like going there. And she didn't feel like faking an answer either. Then she just dropped the phone again and tried to concentrate in the files in front of her. She had work to do. She was busy.

And she jumped in her seat when the door to her office was suddenly opened.

"What the fuck!" The Latina yelled before her eyes recognized the familiar blue hair.

Dani seemed startled too - by her presence or the yell, or both - but she recovered first and bursted into laugh.

"Damn, you almost gave me a fucking heart attack!" Santana barked as the DJ gasped for air, still laughing.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I can see how sorry you are. What the hell are you doing here, sneaking in like a freaking ghost?"

The woman smiled and wiped her teary eyes.

"I forgot my notebook here yesterday. I came to get it, I had no idea you'd be here today."

"I'm using the hollidays to reform the bathrooms, remember?"

"Yeah, I mean, I knew they'd do that this week, but today? It's fucking Christmas Eve," Dani argued and Santana shrugged.

"So what? Time is money."

"You should go be with your girlfriend," Dani went on, approaching the table and retrieving her notebook.

"Rachel went back to Ohio, so I don't really have that option."

"Family? Friends?"

"All in Ohio."

"Why aren't _you_ in Ohio, then?"

"Because I have work to do. And stop being so damn nosy."

Dani chuckled, putting the notebook away in her backpack, and raising both hands.

"Ok, boss. I'm off, then," She started to walk up to the door when Santana called after her:

"What the fuck do you need your notebook for today, anyway?"

Dani stopped and turned around to face her.

"I'm working on some new mixes."

"On Christmas Eve? Don't you have eggnogs and a turkey waiting for you somewhere?"

"Not really, no."

Santana paused. "Hm. Are you spending the night alone?"

"Is that an invitation?" Dani smiled.

"Maybe. Whatever. I'm going to cook for myself anyway. You can stay and eat."

"And drink?"

Santana grinned. "You know me."

"I do, boss," Dani smirked and took something out of her backpack front pocket. It was a small plastic pack filled with coke. "Let's have a white christmas."

* * *

Rachel glanced at her phone for the tenth time in the last minute. She opened the Whatsapp and tried texting Santana again. There was no indication she had read the messages Rachel had sent her before.

"Still nothing?" Kurt asked, sitting by her side on the couch. Rachel shook her head.

"No. I'm starting to get worried."

"It's Santana, dear. She probably got high and passed out already."

"Was that supposed to calm me down?" Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, I just meant it's not that unusual and you shouldn't spend your night on your phone," Kurt replied gently. "Supper is almost ready."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

She was at the Hudson-Hummel house. Her family didn't actually celebrate Christmas, and they didn't actually celebrate hanukkah either; the only tradition they kept was to light a candle everyday for eight days. They had done it earlier, lighting the first one. But although Christmas wasn't their thing, her dads could never resist a chance to cook and gossip with Burt and Carole. So there they were, on Christmas Eve.

"What are you two ranting about?" Finn asked, dropping himself beside Kurt.

"Kurt came to tell me to get off the phone."

"Yeah, like he's one to talk, spending the whole evening texting his crush," Finn smirked.

"Oh, really?" Rachel narrowed her eyes at her friend. "I can't worry about my girlfriend and you spend Christmas flirting with Ryder?"

"I'm not flirting," Kurt said in a rush, his cheeks going red. "And… it's not Ryder."

Rachel stared blankly at him for a moment, before gasping. "_Edward_?"

"Who is Edward?" Finn raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"You are texting Edward on Christmas Eve? Isn't him with his family? His kid?"

"He has a kid? You're dating a parent?" Finn went on.

"Who is dating a parent?" Carole questioned, coming into the living room.

"Nobody is dating a parent!" Kurt spat, standing up. "Jesus!"

"Don't swear, it's Christmas."

"Sorry, Carole," Kurt sighed, then glared at Rachel and Finn. "It was just a few texts, no big deal. Don't _make_ this a big deal," He hissed, before going back to the kitchen.

"Who the hell is that guy?" Finn asked, frowning.

"He is Kurt's crush, you were right about that part," Rachel whispered. "But he is also married. And straight."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Let's just drop the subject."

"Good idea," Finn nodded and got up. "Let's get some wine."

"I'll be there in a minute, I'm just gonna try calling Santana again…"

"Come on, I'm sure she is fine."

"She should had come with us."

Finn rubbed his neck. "She never does, Rach. Let it go."

"Then I should have stayed."

"Yeah, like your dads would put up with that," Finn smiled at her in a reassuring way. "Relax, Rachel. Come on, let's drink wine, have supper and meet the guys later. It'll be fun."

She sighed again, taking a last look at her phone's screen, before accepting Finn's help to get up from the couch.

* * *

Quinn approached the kitchen window and peeked inside.

"Everything in order?" She asked the chef, raising her voice to be heard over all the chatting going on over there.

"Yes, miss," The tawny man in an apron smiled at her. "We'll be ready on time, don't take your panties off through your head."

Quinn narrowed her eyes and had a response in the tip of her tongue when the chef leaned closer and whispered, "Maybe _I_ could try taking your panties off later."

"Maybe you could try doing your job, instead of being a massive misogynist pig," Quinn spat back.

The other cooks and the waiters whistled, amused. Quinn didn't stay there long enough to let the chef come up with an answer. God knew she wouldn't be working with him again, didn't matter if Reuben thought he did a good job.

Quinn didn't think for a second that being a good professional was an excuse for being a bad person. And Reuben seemed to take her opinions into consideration more and more lately.

She walked up to the saloon to let the host know that supper would be ready in a few minutes. It was a big Christmas party mixed with a Law Firm aniversary. The decoration was really pretty and soft nataline songs set up a cozy mood.

Well, it wasn't much of a Christmas for Quinn, but she was getting a very nice Christmas bonus for working that night.

And also, Fabray got to see that; Patricia was just five feet away, chatting excitedly with a small group of men. Sure enough, they were all dazzled by her. Who wouldn't be?

She had a golden dress on, her shiny red hair pinned up on top of her head. A beautiful necklace hinted everyone's eyes to her cleavage, and her lips - red as hell - were impossible to overlook.

The host was one of the men surrounding Patricia, then Quinn reached them in soft, discreet steps.

"Excuse me, Mr. Thomas," She said in a small voice. "I just wanted to let you know supper will be ready in a minute, and we can serve as soon as you want."

"Thank you, Ms. Fabray," The man nodded at her. "Could you please tell that to my wife? She's over there, near the band. I'm sure it's better if it's her call."

Quinn smiled politely. "Of course, sir. I'll tell her."

"I'll go with you," Patricia said and the way she looked at Quinn made the blonde swallow any reply.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Quinn asked as they crossed the saloon.

"Let me see... My husband is already drunk, men can't seem to stop being boring, women can't seem to stop talking about men..."

"That's a no?" Quinn chuckled.

"I enjoy it when I get to see you," Patricia whispered back. "Which was probably the reason I came, in the first place. To spend Christmas Eve looking at you in this cute button-up shirt."

"_Really_?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, trying her best not to sound as shaken as she felt.

"Yes, I love it when you wear one of those."

Patricia smiled at her and Quinn bit on her lip. They both knew that black button-up shirt was part of her uniform. No stylish shirt, no special piece of clothing.

"I'll regret asking, won't I?" The blonde mumbled and Patricia's smile grew wider.

"Yes."

"Why do you like it?" Quinn questioned anyway.

"Because I seem to be always only a bumping away to finding out the color of your bra."

Quinn felt her face going hot.

"What color is it, by the way?"

"You should forget about my bra," Quinn murmured in a tense voice.

"I certainly won't," Patricia replied a moment before they reached the new group.

Quinn cleaned her throat. "Mrs. Thomas, supper is ready. Would you like it to be served already?"

"Oh, yes, I guess. What time is it, darling? The night is flying."

"Can I consider this as complement to the party?" Patricia asked with a captivating smile.

"You should, because it is," Mrs. Thomas said, smiling. "You and Reuben are so good at this."

"We have the best team," The redhead placed a hand on Fabray's back, like she was cheering her, and Quinn felt her bra pop open.

_Son of a bitch._

"_Thank you, _Mrs. Whalling," Quinn said through wooden lips. "If you'll excuse me, I'll tell the chef to serve the supper, then."

She hurried to leave them behind, making her way to the nearest restroom. Quinn huffed, untucking her shirt and opening it with quick moves. Then the door slammed open.

"Green," Patricia announced, her eyes fixed on Quinn's bra.

"Patricia!"

"Green," She repeated, entering the restroom and closing the door behind her.

"You should leave," Quinn said with a trembling voice.

"Let me help you with that."

"There's no need."

"I'll close it for you."

"I don't need you to-" Quinn started, but Patricia's hands were already clutching at the bra's straps.

"Come on, it was a silly thing to do. Just let me..." They were so close now Quinn could barely breathe anything other than Patricia's breath.

Quinn's whole body tensed up when Patricia's hand brushed her back as she clipped the bra again. And just when she was retreating her arms, Quinn held her in place.

Patricia's hands rested on Quinn's naked waist, hot and firmly, like they owned that place on Quinn's body. Like it was theirs to claim.

"What are you doing?" Quinn muttered, her heart racing. She could read in Patricia's face the same raw desire she felt. But somehow, the redhead seemed in control of it. Like someone who had mastered fire.

"I'm touching you, Quinn. Just your waist and it feels really good."

"You should stop."

"Should I? Ok, but then I'll just start something else..." She took a meaningful look down, to Quinn's pants, and the blonde gulped.

And then, maybe for the first time, it all hit her. The fact that she was a second away from being fucked on top of the sink. That it could really happen. That it wasn't just flattering flirting what they had been doing, but rather a torturing kind of foreplay.

Then Quinn thought about the supper, the pain-in-the-ass chef, the fact she had to complain about him... with Reuben. And that she was confident her boss would listen to her. Because they were a team now. And Patricia was his wife.

And Quinn wanted her so bad.

"Green," Patricia's voice brought her back, sounding husky by her ear. "Green is indeed your color," She whispered, before backing away and leaving the restroom.

Quinn stayed behind, short of breath, not sure what the hell had just happened.

* * *

The original glee club was reunited - and very much drunk. A few songs and few margaritas made it a little easier for Rachel to forget about her missing girlfriend. Really, if she had any more booze, she would probably forget her own name.

"Last week I saw this documentary about Journey, and I got so melancholic," Tina said, sipping her drink.

They were all at a small Irish-y pub, which was probably the only place still open at that late hour of Christmas Eve - well, technically, it was already Christmas morning.

"Don't tell _me_," Artie interrupted her. "Tina skypes me at two in the morning, makes me put on a red t-shirt and sing 'Don't stop believing' with her until our roommates threatened to kill us."

"You _didn't_," Kurt laughed.

"I'm sorry, but I miss you guys!"

"Oh, that's so cute," Mercedes ruffed Tina's hair teasingly.

Rachel giggled when her friend grimaced. The truth was that she loved New York, she loved college, she loved Broadway, she loved the weekends at The Asterisk. But that, right there, that tasted like home. She was pretty much looking at the first friends she ever had. And it felt good to still have them.

By now, they knew each other so deeply that they could drunk-mumble and still be able to make conversation. Finn had been gone for three years, but he still got the internal jokes. It felt like time wasn't going to erode any of that, ever. And although her cellphone stood speechless, Rachel stopped feeling alone.

It was pretty late when they left the pub and walked home together. They lived close, and slowly the group broke apart as Artie made a turn to his house, then Tina to hers.

"I'll walk you home," Finn announced when they reached his and Kurt's house again.

"I'll be ok, it's just three more blocks," Rachel waved at him. Kurt was not even pretending he intended to accompany them - he was already unlocking the door.

"Yeah, you're not walking alone in the middle of the night," Finn said firmly, before grabbing Rachel's hand. "Let's go. Don't fight the gentleman in me."

"Oh, alright, I shouldn't. It's rare that he shows up."

"Bullshit."

"Just proved my point," She giggled and Finn chuckled too.

"God, it feels good to be here," He said.

"Did you miss it? Lima?"

"I don't know. Yes, I guess. But it's not… Lima. It's here. Here, this path between our houses, this chilly night. _Here_," Finn pressed her hand tighter and just then Rachel realized they were still laced together.

She made a gesture to pull her hand away, but Finn didn't let her.

"Don't," He whispered. "Don't pull away, Rachel. Don't do that anymore."

"Finn… I have a girlfriend."

"I know. But I love you."

"_Finn_," Rachel sighed.

"Ok, I'm sorry," He wet his lips and they resumed walking.

Rachel couldn't deny it was all very familiar, like he had said. The path, the cold, the warmth of his hand. The feeling she wasn't alone because he was there. Because he was hers. Maybe it were the margaritas talking, or maybe it was her silent phone, but the time seemed to go backwards.

When they arrived at Rachel's porch, and they stumbled with the keys and muffled their drunk laughs so they wouldn't wake up Rachel's fathers, everything about the scene seemed like a known rom-com.

Maybe that was why when Rachel turned to say goodbye and Finn embraced her tight, she didn't fight. And when he kissed her face for a moment too long, she didn't complain. And when Finn leaned in and kissed her lips, Rachel felt like she was in the arms of a time machine.

It was a bit weird, the beard he wore now. But the rest was just the same. Except, this time, she didn't feel it. She didn't feel… anything.

"No," She whispered, pushing him away. "No, I have a girlfriend, Finn."

He sighed and rubbed his face.

"You think I don't know that? I think about that all the time, Rachel. How I was a jackass that lost so much time, and now I don't have you. But I'm sorry. I grew up. I'm here now. We can have the life we always wanted."

"Well, I don't want that life anymore. Ever thought about that?"

"No, I didn't, because I know you! You'll tell me you changed this much in the time I spent away? You don't want to get married, you don't want to have a family?"

"Of course I do, but you're not included on those dreams anymore!"

"And is Santana? The girl who won't spend the holidays with you? That won't answer your calls? That's the relationship you're going for now?"

"You don't know anything about our relationship! That's so pretentious of you. You don't even sound like the guy I used to know, let alone the guy I used to love!" Rachel saw in his face the she had hit him hard. Well, good.

"You're right. I shouldn't have said that. I'm really sorry. But I'm not giving up, Rachel. I'm not."

"It's not a freaking competition, Finn," She hissed. He shrugged.

"I'm not giving up, Rachel," He said again, then turned around and left.

Rachel huffed, finally going in. The phone buzzed in her pocket and her heart raced. Smiling, Rachel got it out and looked anxiously at the screen.

The battery was dying.

* * *

Kurt looked at the bright screen of his phone in the darkness of the room. He read the last message, received only twelve minutes ago.

_Are you awake?_

He sighed deeply before typing back. _Yep. You ok?_

Edward replied by calling him. Kurt almost fell out of bed when the phone screamed in his hand before he managed to accept the call. "Hey, hi. Hi."

"Hey," Ed's voice sounded at the other side. "I'm sorry, is this a bad time? I know it's late."

"No, that's ok. I just got home… Are you alright?"

"Yes. I just wanted to talk for awhile, if that's ok."

"Sure. I'm just a bit drunk. I might not remember anything you said tomorrow."

Ed chuckled. "That'd be probably for the best." He was silent for a moment, then, "Did you have fun?"

"Yes… I met up with some old friends."

"Nice."

"What about you? How is home?"

"Good, you know… I miss my kid."

"I do know that."

"Yeah…"

"What are you doing awake? Don't you have presents to open in a few hours? I doubt Ray will be patient with his sleepy dad."

Edward chuckled again. "He'll probably be up in an hour. But I couldn't sleep."

"Why not?" He didn't reply right away and Kurt forced himself to go on. "Shouldn't you be exhausted from all the sex with your wistful wife?"

This time Ed's silence was so tense Kurt could feel it over the phone.

"Yeah… I should…"

"I'm sorry. That was out of line. I blame the booze."

"It wasn't. That's ok."

"I made you uncomfortable."

"It's ok, Kurt."

"I don't know why I said that…"

"It's _ok_!" He sounded pissed. It was the first time, the very first time since they had met that Kurt heard Edward sounding mad.

They fell into silence again. He waited for Edward to say he was sorry, or say goodbye, goodnight, anything. But he didn't wait for what came next.

"I'm not in love with her anymore, Kurt," Edward whispered, and Hummel could almost see his aggravated handsome face as he spoke. "I'm not sure I ever was."

"_Ed_…"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for throwing this on you."

"Don't say that. I'm your friend, you can always talk to me."

"That's the thing, though. That's the thing, Kurt."

"What? What is the thing? I don't get it."

Edward didn't respond. Kurt thought maybe he didn't know how, maybe he didn't know what he was talking about either.

"I know this might sound crazy… but I just wish you were here." Cuddy said, at last.

"Well, then imagine me there. Just picture me by your side, wherever you are."

"I'm laying on the couch," Edward whispered back. And just like that, Kurt had an erection.

He forced a giggle.

"Then I hope it's a large couch."

"It's not," Ed replied almost too-quickly.

_Don't, don't do that, don't do that - _Kurt told himself, just a second before he failed and touched himself over the boxer.

"Then just forget about what I said…" Hummel muttered, trying not to sound like the creepy perv he was.

"I wish you were here," Edward said again, and somehow Kurt knew he meant laying by his side on a narrow couch. He just knew it.

"Why, Ed?"

"Because it's hard…" He said slowly, and Kurt's cock throbbed to confirm: it was pretty hard. "I'm here again, and it's hard."

"Wh-What?"

"And I can't stop thinking that you would know what to do…"

Jesus fuck, did he intend that conversation to be so dubious? Kurt wasn't sure, but his mind was filled with ideas of what to do to solve that _hard_ problem of Edward's.

"What you want me to do?"

There was a silence again. Too many silences, too many unspoken words.

"I'm not sure, Kurt. I'm sorry. I don't know…" He sounded sad now, the huskiness of his voice gone.

"What are we talking about, Ed?"

"I'm… I'm just… I'm just gonna go to bed now, ok?"

Kurt swallowed hard. To bed. Where his wife waited.

"Yeah, ok."

"Thanks to listen to my random talks."

"No problem."

"Merry Christmas."

Kurt didn't reply, and Edward ended the call. The cell blacked out, the sun was rising up. And it was all gone. Edward, Christmas Eve, his hope.

Well, not all.

Incredibly, the erection was still there.

* * *

Santana snorted one rail, then two, before passing the straw on to Dani. The DJ snorted the other two rails on the table and straightened herself, rubbing at her nose.

"Fuck, that's good," She said, before getting up and turning on the radio again. It was on and off the whole night, as were they. "Is there any turkey left?"

"I think you finished it an hour ago," Santana said, laying on the floor. "You are a freaking food black hole, you know."

"You invited me for dinner, so don't complain now."

"Yeah, so much for charity."

"_Charity_?" Dani loomed over her, shaking her head. "I was your charity? Fuck off!"

"Yeah, you came in with this blue hair and blue mood, all 'I don't have anyone' and stuff."

"You're delusional!" Dani yelled over the loud music. "You were the one crying on your office because your girlfriend abandoned you on Christmas."

Santana stood up, eyes narrowed.

"She didn't _abandon_ me."

"Then there's no need to pout this much, is there now?" Dani replied, squeezing Santana's cheek.

"Get off me!" She fought Dani's hand, but in an amused way.

"Well, then, if you want to do some charity, do it right and fucking dance with me!" The DJ bumped Santana's hip with hers before hopping around the room in a weird kind of dance.

"I'll do better and I'll _teach_ you how to dance," The Latina replied, then passed the songs on the radio - it was her pendrive on - and changed it to _Valerie_.

Dani stopped to watch, an impressed smile on her lips, as Santana put on a show with all she could do of an old choreography. It wasn't much, though, because she was missing a partner.

"Wow, that's awesome! Where the fuck did you learn that?"

"I was part of the glee club, back in Ohio."

"No shit!" Dani laughed.

"Yes shit," Santana nodded. "We were fucking national champions, if you wanna know."

"With that song?"

"No, not with that song. But we won Regional's with _Valerie_. I sang, Brittany and Mike danced. Shit, she was so good at it. So good."

"What? Who?" Dani seemed confused for a moment. "Who is this Brittany? Do I know her?"

"No, you don't."

"Then who is that girl?"

Instead of answering, Santana stumbled down the hallway to her bedroom. Dani followed, in her own dizzy way.

"Hey, what's going on?" She asked, stopping at the door and eyeing the Latina.

Santana opened her wardrobe and fussed through some drawers before finding what she was looking for. It was a picture. An old picture.

"That's Brittany," She explained, handing the photo to Dani.

The DJ glanced at it and whistled. "Damn, she is hot. Come again, do I know her?"

"You don't know her."

"And why don't you introduce me to her, then?" Dani giggled, looking at the photo again. "Wait, don't tell me. She's an ex?"

"Well…"

"That's why you keep that photo buried under your pajamas? So Rachel won't find it?" Dani giggled again.

"That's not it."

"Are you sure?" The DJ raised her eyebrows in a funny interrogative way. "Bad break-up? Still not over her? What's the story?"

"She's dead," Santana said the words as if they were one large swear.

The smile and the amused look on Dani's face dropped all at once.

"Shit. _Shit_. I'm so sorry."

Santana shook her head, sitting on the edge of the bed, suddenly tired. Her body, though, still pumped by the coke, was fidgeting. Dani came to sit by her side.

"What happened? Was it an accident?" She asked, much softer.

"Yeah. We were in a cab, and it crashed."

"We… You mean… you were with her… when it happened?"

Santana nodded, taking the picture from Dani's hand and looking at it again. She didn't do it much, lately. Not since she and Rachel began to date. Maybe Dani was right and Santana kept it buried in her closet so Rachel wouldn't find it, but not for the reasons the DJ might think.

Rachel wouldn't be jealous.

Rachel would be sorry.

Rachel would try to make things better, when it wasn't possible.

Rachel would try to make Santana forget about it.

The thing was, sometimes Santana didn't want to forget about it.

"She's really gorgeous," Dani murmured by her side and the Latina nodded once more. "And this smile, it's a fucking great smile. Like she was the happiest person on Earth."

"I think she was," Santana said, sighing. She was a bit surprised that Dani wasn't changing the subject. That was what people always did. Avoid the void. Not play around it. "People never really talk to me about her, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. I lost a brother when I was sixteen… People started acting like his sole name was a fucking grenade."

"_Exactly_," Santana nodded, then she turned her head to fix her eyes on Dani's. "I'm sorry about your brother."

"I'm sorry about your Brittany." Dani squeezed her wrist slightly and Santana felt a wave of comfort, real comfort. Not because of any human contact crap, but because she felt like the blue-haired girl really understood her.

"Funny thing is, we weren't even together anymore when it happened. We lived together, in this crappy loft on Queens, but we weren't dating anymore. We were not in love anymore."

"But you were friends."

"Yeah, like best friends," Santana agreed. "And we were going to this play… Rachel's first play. Off-Broadway, but anyway a big deal. And we were so late. We got a cab, even though we didn't have much money to spend on it, but we did. We took a cab and we told the driver to fucking hurry. And he did. He hurried. And we crashed."

"How long has it been?" Dani asked, her eyes now on the photo too. Staring at Brittany's stunning smile.

"A little more than three years."

"Not much."

"And a fucking life-time."

It was Danny's time to nod. "I know it sounds like a silly question, but… was it hard? I mean, are you ok? I mean… I'm not sure what I mean, but do you get me?"

Santana wondered about the question. She thought she understood what Dani was asking her, but she didn't know how to answer. That period was a blurr. Like time had stopped, and not because Lopez wanted to, but because the world wouldn't let her move. It was as if her life got split in "before" and "after".

She remembered Finn going overseas to study. She remembered how close she and Rachel got after that. She remembered Brittany teasing her about it. Then they broke up, Rachel and Finn. And he reacted badly, wouldn't talk to her. And she was hurt, but Santana was there, and Berry was on a brand new show off-Broadway. And Santana was an year away from graduation, in a great internship. Life seemed to spread ahead of them all.

Then Brittany was gone.

Yeah, she didn't know what to say to Dani at all.

"I must've been out for a few minutes," Santana found herself talking anyway. "I woke up with Brittany calling my name. There was so much blood, but I didn't know if it was mine or hers. I guess it was both. She asked me if I was hurting and I said I wasn't. And I wasn't, really, I guess I was in shock or something. Then I asked if _she_ was hurting. And she said no, but I knew she was lying. I knew it."

"I'm so sorry," Dani wrapped Santana's waist with her arm, keeping her close, and somewhat warm.

"You know, I don't remember the first time Brittany said she loved me, or the stupid song she invented to put her cat to sleep. I don't remember a shitty huge number of things. But that conversation in that cab… That I can never seem to forget."

They stood there for a few moments longer, staring at Brittany's frozen smile. They didn't cry, they didn't curse that random world, they didn't blame God. They just stood there, then things settled down again.

"Do you want to learn the choreography?" Santana asked at some point.

Dani's smile was huge. "You bet."

* * *

It was almost dawn when Quinn got on a cab. Her feet and her head ached and she would trade two lives and a half for a hot shower. On the way home, she checked and replied the messages on her cellphone, then rested her forehead on the window glass and watched the sun rise slowly.

Marley was waiting for her in front of her building. It wasn't a complete surprise, since the girl had asked Quinn to warn her when she left the party, but it was a surprise still.

"You don't have to invite me in," Marley said as soon as Quinn approached her. "I know you worked all night long, I know you're tired, I know it's almost Christmas morning… I just wanted to-"

"Come," Quinn interrupted her, grabbing her hand and opening the gate quickly.

Yes, she was right about pretty much everything she had said, but it was late, and it was cold as fuck, and Marley was waiting for her outside. Quinn wasn't about to send her right back home.

"I just really wanted to see you," Marley murmured when they got to Quinn's door. This time there was a smile in her voice.

"You shouldn't be out at this hour, you know. It's dangerous."

"I had just arrived," Marley replied sheepishly. "I'm spending the day with my parents, so I thought about coming here now and giving you your present."

"Really? You got me a present?" Quinn looked at her, eyes narrowed.

"Of course I did. It's Christmas," The girl smiled and Quinn couldn't help but smile back.

"Yeah… Maybe I got you something too," She said, getting off of her coat. "Come here, I just really need to get those shoes off."

Marley followed her into the bedroom, coat and scarf left on the couch. Quinn sat on the bed, getting rid of her boots, and Marley sat by her side. When the shoes were off, Fabray straightened herself and looked at the brunette again.

"Merry Christmas," Marley said in a whisper, handing her a little velvet bag.

Quinn just eyed her curiously before opening the bag and turning it upside-down on her open hand. A delicate silver string with a small pendant rolled to her palm. The blonde looked at the pendant closer - it was a cute little crown.

"I hope it pleases you, my queen," Marley's voice sounded next to her, and Quinn looked up to her blue eyes.

"I loved it," She replied honestly, adjusting the necklace around her collar and closing it at her hindhead.

"It looks beautiful on you," The brunette told her, eyes darting to Quinn's collar to her lips.

Then Fabray leaned in and kissed her. It was not a thank-you kiss. It was not a merry-christmas kiss. It was not innocent. The moment their lips met, something within the blonde roared. The only surprise was the fact that something within Marley roared back.

In a moment, Quinn had Marley on her back on the bed. She bit on her lower lip, and the girl gasped, her legs spreading to accommodate Fabray's body. They kissed again, hungrier this time, in a feverish way.

Quinn was aware of everything she _shouldn't_ do, all of those arbitrary limits Marley imposed them, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't go any further then she should, then Marley wanted her to go. _It didn't really matter_. That kiss had all the heat of the rising sun.

And Marley's body was so warm, so good to feel under hers. It was great to be touched, to be kissed, to let go of her control and dive into someone else. And although Quinn's hands were firmly pressed on the mattress, on each side of Marley's head, their hips were connected in a fucking glorious way.

Fabray didn't even know who had started it, but they were certainly rocking against each other now. Marley sucked on her tongue and it was almost overwhelming. Quinn moaned and she moaned back, now grabbing the blonde hair in a firm grip. Fabray was so aroused now she could feel her clit throbbing underneath the clothes.

She spread kisses down Marley's neck, then went back to the mouth, devouring her. Quinn accelerated their pace when Marley started to gasp for air; her usually delicate hands clutching Quinn's back as the kiss burned their tongues. She let out a small horny groan, and it was enough for Marley to echo her with muffled whimpers she seemed desperate to contain against the blonde's lips, but didn't quite manage. Her whole body shivered under Quinn's, tensing up like a guitar cord, then relaxed all at once.

Fabray gulped, her heart thundering in her chest. "Marley? Did you just…?" She stammered, then trailed off.

In less than two seconds, Marley was off the bed. "I should go."

"No, no…" Quinn stumbled to her feet, the girl already leaving the room. "_Marley_."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"Calm down, please. Don't leave like this," Quinn asked as the brunette put on her coat and scarf at lightning speed.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to go," She replied in a hurry, not waiting for Quinn's response before running out the door.

Fabray groaned, not in such a nice way this time, and marched down to her bedroom again, praying that she would have some battery left on her vibrator.


	8. You're trying to forget

I was really close from dropping this fic altogether, but then I decided to give it one more chance. I think it might take a while to get tottally back on track with the feeling of this, but I hope you don't find it too bad until I do it. :)

Thanks for the ones who read it - I'll keep going because I believe you exist, actually. hahaha

* * *

The sudden siren sound made Santana fall out of bed. Rachel, standing by the bedside and holding out a cellphone, jumped out of the way when the latina crumpled onto the floor.

"Rachel!" That was the first thing Santana was able to say, and she was not sure it was because she had sank in her presence or because she had been dreaming of her. "What are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you answer my calls?!" Rachel demanded, touching the phone and finally putting an end to that blasting sound. Santana's head pounded so hard she couldn't manage to get up.

"The phone never rang…"

"_The phone never rang?_" Rachel hissed, moving towards the Latina as if she would go over her. "I called and texted you a thousand times!"

"I didn't hear it…" She murmured, finally standing up on her feet. The movement made her stomach lurch.

"Where the hell even is your phone?"

"I don't know! _What are you doing here_?"

"I came back early! I was worried about you, worried you might be sick or upset… I took the first train back this morning," Berry said, her tone empty of any sweetness.

"I'm fine."

"I see it," Rachel spat, and her eyes roamed the room to focus on Dani for the first time.

Santana gulped. The DJ was also up by now, of course, sitting on the very edge of the bed, looking like she was deciding if she should try sneaking out of there.

"If I knew you had company, I would have called first," Rachel drawled. "But then again, you wouldn't have picked up!"

Santana sighed, trying to fight back the sickness in her stomach and the thundering pain in her head. Rachel glared at her, those big chestnuts eyes full of rage. And the Latina knew the only reason Berry wasn't on top of them yet was because she and Dani were fully dressed; actually, Dani was even wearing her socks.

"We had too much to drink… The music was loud…" Santana tried.

"Oh, I'm glad you guys had a little Christmas party."

"I should go," Dani announced suddenly, probably concluding she wouldn't escape unnoticed.

The gaze Rachel directed at the DJ made Santana groan. Oh, was she in trouble.

"Ahm… Thank you for…" Dani tried, biting on her lip. "I mean… I'm sorry… Ahm… bye."

"I'll walk you out…" Santana offered, which probably didn't help her case.

"No need! I'll just grab my boots and backpack, and I know where the door is," Dani was out of the room so fast it would made a cheetah jealous.

"_So_," Rachel's voice echoed so cold it gave Santana the chills. "Do I get an explanation?"

"Yeah, maybe after you lose your fucking attitude and I get a shower," Santana spat back, walking in the bathroom.

The baffled expression on Rachel's face made her feel a little better.

"_Excuse me_?" She still heard behind her.

Santana undressed clumsy and opened the hot shower, entering the water with a relieved moan. The drum in her head eased a little. She thought Rachel would storm in and start yelling at her again, but it didn't happen. The Latina finished her bath alone, and put on her robe before going back to the bedroom.

Rachel was sitting on her bed now, and the Latina let out the air when she identified what she was holding; the picture frame with Brittany's picture.

"What the hell happened last night?" Berry asked, and although there wasn't niceness in her voice, the rage seemed to be gone.

"Dani showed up at the club after her notebook, I invited her to stay for dinner. We ate and we drank a lot and we danced a little. That was all."

"Are you sure?"

"What the fuck, Rachel," Santana sat besides her. "I know you're pissed I didn't get your calls, but _really_?"

"I was worried about you!"

"I'm a grown up, dammit! I can survive two days without you! And I'm fucking allowed to have friends, you know."

"Friends you've already slept with!"

"Yes, fuck, that's been a constant in my life since High School, if you wanna know," Santana used the moment to take the picture away from Rachel, pointing at the blonde girl in the image, then dropping it to the floor. "And so what? Don't play this fucking card on me, I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Then why didn't you reply my texts? Why didn't you answer the phone?"

"You weren't here! You were there with your family, and Kurt, and Finn - who guess what, is a friend who you've slept with -, you were there, and I was here, and there was no point spending the night fucking missing you!"

"So you didn't miss me?" Her tone was sharp again. Santana cursed.

"Rachel, I'm too tired for this."

"Tired of getting drunk and cheating on me? _Great_," She stood up, motioning towards the door.

"Shut up," Santana hissed, grabbing her hand and pulling her back.

"You shut up!"

"Shut up!" The Latina said again, fighting Rachel's arms that were trying to get rid of her.

"Let me go!"

"Oh, no, I don't think so."

"Santana, let me go!"

But, instead, the Latina grabbed her by the waist and tossed the singer onto the mattress. In one second, she was on top of Rachel, pinning her down with her own body.

"I didn't cheat on you," She told to a struggling Rachel. "Look at me, _shit_."

"I don't believe you."

"Shut up and look at me, Rachel." Santana sat on Rachel's hips, using one hand to fight off hers, and the other to hold her chin and make their eyes meet. "I. Didn't. Cheat. On. You."

Berry stopped fighting altogether, dropping her arms to her sides and panting under the Latina.

"Why do you do this to me?" She asked in a whisper.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted you here so bad, and every text was a reminder that you were not. At some point, I just put the phone aside."

"Why didn't you ask me to stay, then?"

Santana shrugged. "I didn't think you would."

"I would have. You idiot. I would have."

The Latina nodded slowly and lowered herself so her lips would meet Rachel's.

"I'm glad you're here now. You're my Christmas present," She murmured as Berry opened her mouth to take in her tongue. They both moaned in unison.

"No, stop…"

"Come on, Rach…" Santana said, nibbling on her lower lip. "You're not mad at me anymore, I know it."

"I am," She replied, but then moaned again when San's tongue entered her mouth to tease hers.

"You know I didn't cheat on you."

"I don't _know_ that," Rachel shook her head. "But I believe that."

"Good."

"But we still have to talk."

"About what?"

"About last night…"

"_Nothing_ happened last night!" Santana exclaimed, a little impatient. "Not even a dirty line, not even a kiss, not even a peck!"

Rachel sighed, then placed her little hands on Santana's shoulder and pushed the Latina aside, before sitting up again.

"Yeah… But I guess I have to tell you something."

Santana frowned, and suddenly her head was on the verge of exploding again. "_What?_"

* * *

Quinn rubbed her hands, trying to get warm. She was standing on that sidewalk for over twenty minutes now and she was starting to get really tired. Her eyes remained fixed on the door of the diner across the street, observing everyone going in or out.

She knew Marley worked there, and her shift usually ended around six. Yes, it was more than a little stalkerish, but Fabray was running out of options.

When she saw a familiar brunette getting out of the door, she hurried to cross the street.

"Marley!"

The girl turned around at the call and stopped all at once when she recognized the blonde.

"Quinn! What- What are you…?"

"Doing here?"

"Well… yeah."

"I was waiting for you. And I know, I know it's freaky, but please, don't freak out. I didn't know what else to do. You've been avoiding me for four days."

"I have not. I've called you, I've texted you," Marley argued, although her cheeks became a bright tone of red.

"You've been avoiding seeing me."

"I've just been busy…"

"Are you busy now?"

"Quinn…"

"Are you? Can we go get a cup of coffee?"

"I smell of french fries right now."

"It's one of my favorite smells ever."

Marley cracked a tiny smile at that. "I'm sorry, but I really need to go home and take a shower."

"Ok…" Quinn shrugged. "I can wait."

"I'm sorry. I swear I'll call you as soon as…"

"No. I can wait now. I can wait you take your shower," Quinn emended and Marley's eyes widened right away. The blonde had to fight off a chuckle. "I wait at the lobby of your building, Marley."

"Jesus, you're persistent."

"I am," Fabray smiled and took her hand.

Marley seemed to hesitate for a split second, then resumed walking. The girl lived a block away, at max.

"I guess you are mad at me…" She started sheepishly.

Quinn frowned. "I thought _you_ were mad at _me_."

"Really?"

"Yeah. That's why I wanted so bad to see you. I wanted to say that I'm sorry… I'm sorry if things went too far, too fast, the other day…"

Marley blushed again, so deeply Quinn almost felt sorry for her.

"I don't… Let's not…"

"No, Marley. Let's yes. We need to talk about it as two adults. How can we work things out if we don't communicate?"

"I'm just saying you don't have to apologize for anything."

"And I'm saying you don't have to be afraid to see me. I won't jump you, you know."

Marley gasped, almost tumbling over her own feet. Then Quinn realized. _She is afraid _she _will jump _me_. _

They had gotten to the building and Marley opened the gate with slightly trembling hands. Quinn entered behind her.

"You don't have to wait in the lobby. Come on up. I won't take long."

Quinn nodded and they climbed the stairs in silence. She stayed on the couch as Marley vanished in the bathroom, even though the idea of joining her in the shower was a brilliant temptation in Fabray's mind. She was pretty sure Marley was as horny as she, and there was one quicky way to solve all of their problems.

If only Quinn was more of a cretin.

When Marley got out of the shower, she had her usual flowery scent back. It was even more yummy than french fries, if you asked Quinn. She also looked a little less freaked out. Probably because the blonde was behaving very well so far.

"So, I never got the chance to give you your Christmas present…"

"Oh, you don't have to."

"Come on," Quinn patted the seat by her side on the sofa. "I hope you like it."

She handed Marley a wrapped package, which she opened with delicate hands, eyeing Quinn under the lashes.

"_Twenty poems of love and one song of despair_," She read on the book cover and Quinn nodded.

"It's from my favorite poet. Pablo Neruda. Do you know him?"

"Heard of him… But don't really _know _him."

"I figured. That's why I marked my favorite ones," Quinn smiled, before taking the book from her hands and shuffling through the pages. "Can I read my favorite strophe to you?"

"Please."

Quinn cleared her throat. Then she read, her voice sounding soft and clear, like she thought Neruda's words must be pronounced. Meaning every verse as if they were made by her to Marley. Because that was the only true reason to give someone poetry as a gift. And she thought she could make Marley a little less tense about love and desire and life itself. So she read on.

"My words rained over you, stroking you.  
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.  
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.  
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,  
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.  
I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."

When she raised her head again, Marley's blue eyes were staring at her with some sort of awe. Like she had just been serenaded or something. And maybe she had. Quinn wasn't sure, but she liked to be stared at that way. Like she was powerful, fearful and wonderful at the same time. Like Marley could barely resist at her siren song.

"I want to do with you what spring does to the cherry trees," Quinn repeated for good measure.

Then Marley was on top of her, kissing her so hard they almost fell out of the couch.

"Then do it," The brunette groaned against her mouth, guiding Quinn's hand to her breast. "Please, do it."

And Quinn did.

* * *

"They _kissed_!" Santana shouted for the tenth time and Quinn grimaced, like she wanted to cover her ears.

"For how long?"

"Does that matter?"

"I think so, yeah."

"She says it was only for a moment, and she pushed him away," The Latina said through gritted teeth.

...

"Then it wasn't so bad," Kurt said through the phone to an almost hysterical Rachel. "They were dressed and all."

"They were dressed when I got there. God only knows if they stayed that way the whole night."

"Exactly. God only knows, you don't. So stop presuming the worst."

"I would, but then she got _so mad_ just because me and Finn… had a really, really tiny moment… I think she can only be deflecting!"

…

"I'm not trying to turn the table!" Santana glared at her friend, like Quinn had just personally offended her. Then again, maybe she had. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"I'm just saying," Quinn started carefully, "that finding you in bed with the DJ must not have been nice."

"We didn't do anything!"

"You mean you didn't have sex with her. But _you did_ ignore Rachel's calls and texts. _You did_ spend your night in the company of another girl. _You were_ an ass."

"What side are you, Fabray?"

…

"Of course I understand your side," Kurt sighed. "I'm just saying kissing your ex is not _nothing_. You must understand how that upsets your current girlfriend."

"Yes, I do understand. I know it was a mistake. But I came back to be with her the very next morning! And I found her in bed with another woman-"

"Sleeping."

"Still!" Rachel all but yelled, making Kurt drag the phone away from his ear. "I would apologise, if she did so too."

…

"If I apologise," Santana said in a low tone, "it will look like I did something wrong."

"Which you did, for God's sake!" Quinn held the Latina's shoulders and shook her a little. "Wake the fuck up, San! I know how anal Rachel can be, but she was also really worried about you. She called me a thousand times, she almost convinced me of coming after you. But I was working, and I knew you were probably drunk, and I didn't. I didn't come, but Rachel showed up less than eight hours later because she was _worried about you_!"

…

"I don't mean to judge. I know very well our Ms. Lopez is a pain in the ass sometimes, but Rachel… We also know this time of the year is a bit hard on her. And although I don't think it's a bad thing what you did, because I know how much you miss your family, you did choose to leave her alone. It's Santana, dear. What you expected her to do? Get drunk, forget the phone and blackout on her own bed is a good scenery, compared to all of the possible ones, right?"

Rachel wet her lips, a sudden ache settling in her chest. "I guess…"

…

"She had no clue I was with Dani when she kissed Finn. One thing has nothing to do with another!" Santana tried, but Quinn shook her head.

"Of course it has. She kissed Finn because _he was there_. You were not. He was there, being all cute and attentive and shit. And you were here ignoring her and passing out with someone else."

"Now you're saying I deserved what I got? I deserve to get cuckolded?"

"You were not cuckolded, goddammit. But I think you can be, if you don't figure out what you want with her, you know?"

"What do you mean?" Santana narrowed her eyes at Quinn.

…

"Try to remember you guys are friends, alright?" Kurt said in his calmest voice. "You have a deeper connection. You can talk. You can just sit down, open up with each other and talk. You are _friends_."

"Yes. Yes, I guess you're right."

"As usual," He said and Rachel sensed a smile on his voice. "Anyway, I'm coming back tomorrow. Please try to keep the make up sex in Santana's loft. I don't want our apartment smelling of lesbian drama."

* * *

Kurt smiled to the camera while the guy on the other side adjusted himself in bed.

"I thought they would be ok by the time I arrived, but I was so mistaken," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "I just spent hours trying to convince Rachel to go nagg the fountain of her nuisance, instead of me."

"And did you?"

"Yes. She's off to talk to Santana."

"So you're alone?" Ryder asked, that cute smile of him occupying almost the phone's whole screen.

"How can you make a simple question like that sound so dirty?" Kurt replied, biting on his lower lip.

"Easy. I haven't seen you in ten days. I'm out of my mind. I want you."

Kurt gulped. Sometimes he forgot how honest and straightforward Ryder could be. No games, no half-words. He was all there. All in. It was one of the things Hummel loved about him.

But maybe he didn't love enough.

Ten days and he had barely noticed. Ryder had travelled back to his city to spend the holidays with family, much as Kurt had done, but the difference was that Ryder was on vacation and Kurt would work on that week between Christmas and New Year.

Kurt was back to New York. Ryder was still gone. Kurt was missing someone too. But it wasn't Ryder.

Hummel shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm just so tired today. I spent hours on the train…"

"Oh, don't be mean to me," Ryder pouted at him.

"I promise you can punish me for that when you get back," Kurt ventured, and it seemed to work, since the boy smiled fully.

"Alright, then."

"Good night, dear."

"Good night, K."

Kurt ended the facetime and sighed. He felt guilty, like he was doing something really wrong to someone who did everything right. But, to be honest, he wasn't doing _anything_. He liked Ryder, truly. The idea of letting him go for some idiotic straight crush seemed too dumb to consider.

Even though he was really tired, he couldn't sleep. He tried to read, to watch Netflix, television, to sing on his karaoke. He even tried some push-ups, some warm milk, then some wine. But nothing worked.

The hours passed by slowly on that silent flat. It was pretty clear Rachel wouldn't be back for the night. He hoped she had solved things with Santana. Not only because it was annoying to have them pissed at each other, but also because he wanted to see them happy.

But when the interphone rang, at almost two in the morning, he could only think something had gone wrong. Rachel had probably stormed out of San's apartment, leaving the keys there. He was already sighing when he answered it. Then the voice at the other side made him jump.

"It's Ed. Edward. It's Edward, Kurt. Can I go up? Please?"

He could. Of course he could. Kurt went to wait for him at the door. When the elevator arrived, Edward stumbled out of it. Maybe it was that clumsy walk, or the messed up hair, or the red eyes… but Kurt immediately knew Edward was drunk. He knew it before the blonde guy got close enough for Kurt to smell the alcohol on him.

"Edward, what happened? Are you ok? What are you doing here at this hour?"

"I'm sorry. I just… I had to see you. I had to. I'm sorry, Kurt," He murmured, and his voice was as clear as always, although the same couldn't be said about his sentences.

"But… why? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," He said that so seriously Kurt held his breath. "Kurt, I don't know if something is wrong…"

Edward took one final step and raised both hands to hold Kurt's face. Hummel's eyes popped out, but he stood motionless, his heart thundering against his ribcage.

"I just can't stop thinking about you, Kurt. And I don't know if that's wrong, I don't know, ok? But I also don't care anymore. I can't stop thinking about you."

And even before Kurt could completely understand what he had just said - it wouldn't take long, he had been dreaming about those words for so long -, Ed's lips were on his. Hard, famished, devouring lips. Like nothing Kurt had tasted before. Like nothing he would ever taste in his life again.


	9. Between the drinks and subtle things

**First thing, thanks for the love in the last chapter. :)**

**Second thing, I did not get the name of the fic wrong, ok? It was supposed to be a joke, but I guess it's not very funny. :(**

**Third thing, I think I will finally give you guys something you want with this chapter, although it's not all that long. **

* * *

The scent of fresh coffee dominated the flat, but still Kurt smelled his own lotion when the door for the bathroom opened. Edward came out wearing nothing but his jeans and a towel around his shoulders. Kurt glanced at him and almost dropped the cup in his hand.

Jesus Christ. Could that man be any more breath-taking?

Oh, yes, he could, Kurt thought as he remembered the kiss they had shared less than half an hour ago. He could swear his lips were still sore, still buzzing. And he couldn't think about that now.

"I'm so sorry," Edward murmured as he approached the boy in the kitchen.

"It's ok, no need to apologise," Hummel replied, extending a cup full of black coffee to the man in front of him.

Edward had a pained look on his face that made Kurt want to hold him and never let go.

"No, we both know I need to apologise. A lot." He sipped his coffee and grimaced. It was probably pretty bitter, but he didn't complain.

He was sober now, and that was plain to see. No more trembling; not in his legs, not in his words. After Kurt had pushed him away - how he managed to do that, he would never truly know - and said he was drunk as fuck, Edward had tried to stumble away from the building.

Well, that wouldn't do.

Hummel had him drinking a lot of water, then taking a shower. And now strong coffee. So, there. A sober Edward with a lot of regrets, as Kurt had expected.

"What I did…" He started, putting down his mug next to Kurt's.

"We don't have to talk about that," Hummel interrupted him, maybe too abruptly. Edward winced.

"Really? We'll just pretend nothing ever happened?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it'd be the for best."

"Kurt… I can't… I can't do this. I'm sorry, but…" Edward gulped. "Maybe I screwed things up, maybe you'll never look at my face again after today, but now, now we talk. Ok?"

Kurt glanced at him again. Those green eyes stared back with determination, so he sighed and pulled a chair.

"Ok, Ed. Talk."

The blonde also pulled a chair besides him and wet his lips. "I'm sorry. I should have never done what I just did…"

"Alright, I forgive you." He said bluntly, ignoring the painful sting in his stomach.

"You told me you have someone. I knew it, and even so, I… I kissed you, and… I forced myself into your house and… I'm so embarrassed…"

"You were drunk, right? You were not thinking _straight_." Ok, so maybe he highlighted the word on purpose, but Edward deserved this much.

"What do you mean by that?" His blonde eyebrow arched. Kurt shrugged. "Tell me, Kurt. Are you giving me this as an exit? Why?"

"Because it's such a cliché, Edward!" He shouted, finally. In the end, his peace offering didn't last long. "A goddamn cliché that you flirt with me for weeks, then you get drunk and show up at my door in the middle of the night and kiss me…"

"Kurt…"

"Then one thing leads to another, right, and the next morning you are so hungover you barely remember what happened. And oh my god, Kurt, you took advantage of me! I'm not gay! I have a wife! This shouldn't have happened and will not be repeated. That is, until you're drunk again!"

The outburst left him breathless and in the silence that followed both of them only heard Kurt's panting slightly.

"Do you really think that?" Edward asked slowly.

"As I said, it's a cliché."

"Jesus, Kurt." Cuddy shook his head and dragged his chair closer. "I got drunk because I'm a coward, alright. But I didn't do anything I didn't want to do when I was sober. That I don't want to do _right now_."

Hummel gulped. "Yeah, right…"

"I don't know if I'm gay. I don't know if I want to think about it right now. And I'm sorry if that is a bad thing for me to say. But I do know I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you."

That made Kurt's eyes look up at his face, suddenly a hundred times more attracted than before.

"Kurt, I'm sober now. And Kurt…" Edward's hand slid to the back of his neck, holding him in a firm grasp. "I think I'm crazy about you."

"You're not… You're not being serious… You didn't think it through…"

"Stop that." Edward leaned in and his lips brushed Kurt's eyebrows slightly. Ed's breath was warm against his face. "Send me away or kiss me. Anything else is foolishness."

It was an easy choice.

And it was as powerful as the first kiss had been, as overwhelming. They stood up clumsily, Kurt getting rid of the towel around Ed's neck while the blonde groped for his shirt, pushing it out of the way.

Hummel moaned as he felt Edward's erection pressing his stomach - so hard, so fast. Ed had wanted him for a long time. And Kurt had no trouble matching his desire, as he also had wanted the blonde so much, for so long.

"I don't know… I don't know how to…" Edward panted as Kurt led him to the bedroom between kisses.

"Don't worry, I know what you need," He whispered, freeing the man from his jeans and boxer. The hard-on that welcomed him made Kurt moan.

He pushed Edward to sit on the edge of the bed and dropped to his knees. Cuddy shouted when Kurt's mouth swallowed his cock almost whole.

"Fuck!" He groaned, his big hand entangling in Hummel's dark hair. "Fuuuck, you do know what I need!"

Yes, Kurt did.

* * *

Rachel stared at the ceiling, her chest heaving while she tried to catch her breath. Santana's hand was still between her legs, and she didn't know if it was because the Latina liked it or because she couldn't move yet. Probably both.

They hadn't talked. As soon as Santana had opened the door - wearing nothing more than red panties - Rachel found herself speechless. And to be honest, Lopez didn't give her much time to formulate anything.

So they had had angry sex. Lots of angry sex. And when they were too tired to be angry, they just had sex. Rachel wasn't sure if they were done yet.

"You know I came here to talk, right?" She said in a husky voice.

Santana chuckled. "Why do you think I kept your mouth busy all night?"

"This is not healthy, Santana."

"Easy to say that after… how many were they?" She asked in a dirty tone that gave Rachel the chills.

"That's hardly the point," She huffed. No way in hell she would admit Santana had just distracted her with fourteen awesome orgasms.

"Can't we just agree nobody cheated on Christmas and let slide?" The Latina asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rachel sighed. Cheating or not cheating was not exactly the point either, was it? She wasn't sure anymore. Santana had confused her with all of this… oxytocin. Kurt had said something about they being friends and stuff. About sitting down and getting their connection back. But hadn't they just done it? Wasn't making love a connection?

"You were sad about Brittany?" She asked tentatively.

Santana's hand left the place between her legs in a split second.

"Why do you ask that? What Brittany has to do with anything?" The Latina said, sitting up.

"I don't know, San. I arrive here and there is this picture-frame on the floor, and you are here with Dani… You didn't want to talk to me… Why don't you talk to me?"

"There is nothing to talk about, Rachel! It was just an old picture buried in my closet that happened to pop up last night, ok?"

"You know you never talk to me about this, right? About why you won't go back to Ohio, about why do you think you have to use all of this… _stuff_ you use…"

"Don't start this."

"Why can you talk to Dani and not to me?" Rachel demanded, fighting back an uncomfortable lurching in her stomach.

Santana took a deep breath and for a moment Berry thought she would burst - in tears or in yells, she wasn't sure. But instead, Lopez looked back at her with a gleam in those dark eyes that Rachel by now knew all too well.

"Probably because Dani I cannot fuck," She replied, crushing their lips together, her hand finding its way back to where it had been moments ago.

And they did not talk.

* * *

"So you guys are truly an item now?" Rachel asked, sucking her drink through the straw. Dani's mixes pumped through the walls of the VIP area, but still she was heard.

"I guess," Quinn shrugged.

"It's on Facebook, so it must be official," Kurt teased, grinning at the blonde.

"That was all Marley," She tried to justify. "She sent the request. Really, what could I do? Deny that she is my girlfriend?"

"Not after taking the virginity of the poor thing!" Santana shook her head ironically. "That would be just cruel!"

The others laughed as Quinn made her a face. "Don't be a bitch. I actually like her."

"Liking her is not the problem, dear. We all like her," Kurt said in an amused tone. "The problem is not liking another."

"Right, you're one to say!" Quinn bumped his shoulder. "Fucking Edward while Ryder is gone."

"Uuuuh, that was a knock-out!" Santana announced, whistling.

"Shut up," The boy glared at her. "Two days ago you two were crying about getting cheated on, so you can't really play the superiors now."

"Nobody cheated!" Rachel shouted, frowning at her friend.

"Yeah, and if I remember, Quinn and I had a lot of trouble convincing you both of that." The couple pouted at them, but kept silent. "And, for myself, I can only say I did not plan… what happened with Edward. And I intend to clear things with Ryder as soon as he is back…"

"Are you insinuating I planned to… well… do things with Marley?"

"You read fucking Neruda to her!" Santana exclaimed, and Rachel and Kurt nodded in agreement.

"Because I like her!"

"Because you wanted to _fuck_ her."

"That's also because I like her!"

"That's because she is cute," Kurt said with an eye roll.

"Goddamit, what is wrong with you guys? When did you turn to a bunch of cynics?" Quinn asked seriously, narrowing her eyes at them.

"Oh my God," Rachel said in a surprised tone. "Quinn, isn't that your boss over there? Patricia?"

"What? Where?" Fabray's neck snapped back to glance at where Rachel's stare was settled. But except for a few couples on the other tables, there was nobody else on the VIP area.

"Yeah, sure, you like her," Rachel deadpanned with a laugh in her voice.

Quinn glared at her with murder in her eyes. "I _do_ like Marley."

"But as I said…" Kurt murmured. "The problem is really not liking another."

"You should know, dating a married man and all…" Santana sing-songed.

"San!" Rachel elbowed her. "That was just mean."

"What! You were talking about that upstairs!"

"But not to his face!"

Kurt fake-laughed at them. "Can we change subjects, please?"

"Yes! Let's talk about my play. Do you all have the day marked on your agendas? Because it opens in…"

"Six days," The other three said in unison and Rachel smiled.

"Exactly. Next Friday, Broadway's new hit will be opened for the public. And you guys have to be there, so, please…"

"We will be there, dear," Kurt assured her.

"Yeah. You know I have a big party in New Jersey at Thursday, but I will be back Friday in time to see your play. So don't worry, because my seat is taken," Quinn winked at her.

Rachel winked back and turned to face Santana. The Latina smiled, pushing the hair away from Rachel's face, before whispering, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

* * *

Quinn turned on the shower and moaned as the smoldering water hit her head and shoulders. She was all sore from working the whole night, walking up and down in high heels, smiling at boring people and making sure everybody was having fun.

But, ok, the night had been a success. And it was a political committee reunion, a fundraiser for next campaigns, and Quinn managed it all alone. No nannies this time. Not one person to supervise her. She had done it all. And quite well, thank you very much.

So, she was tired, but happy. Her own competence always thrill her up, and she doubted sleep would come easily. Maybe she would call Marley and they could talk until she felt a little less agitated. Then the blonde would go to bed because she wanted to be back in New York early next morning. She would pass by the office quickly, then get ready for Rachel's opening night.

That was as far as her plans for the night went, so when Fabray finished the shower, was getting on her camisole, and the doorbell rang, she wasn't sure what it could be about.

She didn't actually know anyone in New Jersey, and surely wasn't expecting someone to show up on that little hotel.

"Who is it?" She asked outloud, closing a robe around her waist.

"Room service."

Quinn frowned. Room service? At that hour?

"I'm sorry, it's probably a mistake," She said, opening the door. "I didn't ask for anything…"

The red smile that waited for her on the doorstep blindsided her. Patricia looked at Quinn as if her face held all the fun in the world.

"Are you sure? Because you look hungry," The woman said, while Quinn was still gaping.

"Patricia- What- Hm… What are you doing here?"

"Please, tell me it's a rhetorical question." Patricia passed by the blonde, entering the room with no embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid it's a legit question…" Quinn managed to say as the door closed softly behind her.

It might even be a legit question, but something in her guts already had the answer, because they were twisting and contracting at the sight of that woman. Maybe it was that Cheshire cat smile, or the fact Patricia was wearing a lot of that slutty perfume Quinn adored… Maybe it was just that they were in fucking New Jersey and the blonde knew very well there were no two reasons for Patricia to be there…

"Quinn," She said in a slow, alluring voice. "I'm done chasing you."

"Patricia…" Fabray swallowed thickly. She wouldn't escape with half words now. If she escaped at all. Did she even want to? "I… I have a girlfriend."

If something, that made the redhead smile bigger, brighter.

"That's cute." Her hands worked skillfully in undoing the knot of her own coat. "Maybe after tonight you'll have two."

The black coat slid off her shoulders and dropped to the floor, forming a soft mount at Patricia's feet. Not that Quinn saw that. No, her eyes didn't get to the floor until much later. Because when the coat was gone, Patricia was there. All of Patricia.

God, she was gorgeous. Of course Quinn knew that, in a way she had always known, but looking at her… It was not exactly the shape of her naked body, not only that, but the way she looked so confident nude in high heels. And that look on her face, and those red locks dancing in her beautiful freckled shoulders.

Quinn gasped for air, but there was none.

Patricia was there.

Naked.

In front of her.

With the dawn sun shining in her skin.

Quinn just gave up. She gave up and they met halfway.

For a moment, Fabray thought it would all go wrong. Things wouldn't go as they did in the movies. They wouldn't have chemistry. They would be floppy in their hurry. They would realize it was not meant to be. But any of that happened - and it was her ruin.

Patricia's taste was incandescent. It set Quinn's body on fire in half a second, and then everything was burning. She pressed the redhead against the wall, their hands battling stubbornly while Fabray cursed the fact she had only one fucking mouth to devour that woman.

She pushed Patricia's hands away fiercely, holding them against the wall and locking them there before running her mouth to the woman's neck and sinking her teeth there. Quinn heard her moan a horny protest. Jesus fuck, that woman tasted like sin itself.

"Stop, stop, _stop_ that!" She commanded, sounding almost impatient, again battling with Patricia's hands.

In a firm, determined gesture, she turned Whalling around, making her face the wall.

"Today you only say 'yes', you hear me? To everything I want, you only say 'yes'," She moaned in Patricia's ear and the woman echoed her.

"_Quinn._"

The blonde only slid her hand down Whalling's body, reaching the point between her thighs. Patricia's presence stunned her, that was the truth. If she didn't control everything, she wouldn't control _anything_. She would lose herself right then and there.

Quinn's fingers brushed the redhead's wet sex, resting in her clit, making Patricia moan loudly. That was what she wanted. What she needed to have. The proof they were both in the same sinking boat. Any sweetness could come after.

Her fingers moved, and Patricia moaned against the wall.

"That's what you want? That's what you came for?"

"Yes…"

"I don't hear you."

"_Yes_."

"Tell me, Patricia!"

"YES!"

Quinn sank her teeth in Patricia's shoulder, her hand moving faster between her legs while the sounds the redhead made became louder and more desperate. And when Fabray found her way inside of her, the woman was more than ready to welcome her in.

"Do you like that?"

"I do."

"Do you want more?"

"Yes."

"Then ask for it."

"Quinn… I want you."

"Ask for more," She demanded, panting on her neck.

"More. Give me _more_."

"I want to hear you asking me for more," Quinn moaned, thrusting her fingers inside of her faster and faster.

"Just fuck me!" Patricia shouted, at last. Her hands slid down the wall, the nails leaving marks on the painting. "_Fuck me_!"

That was all Quinn needed to hear. She turned Patricia again, and this time she wanted those hands on her body. She needed them. Craved them. Their lips met again, so hungry it hurt, in a kind of despair that was the drought and the storm at the same time.

"Fuuuck, Patricia…" Quinn groaned as she felt a smoldering hand go up under her camisole to grab her ass.

"We couldn't wait anymore," The woman whispered against her neck and Quinn barely nodded. No, they couldn't.

Quinn touched her again; Patricia was so wet Fabray wanted to drown in her. They kissed and the blonde drank all the moans the other let out as she came gloriously in her hand, shivering as if there was an earthquake inside of her.

When it was over, none of them had enough strength to remain up. They half slid, half dropped to the floor, bodies still glued on each other. Patricia's hands got rid of Quinn's robe and camisole in a messy hurry, then she cupped the blonde's breasts and guided them to her mouth.

"_Quinn_," She breathed, teeth teasing her hard nipples until the blonde moaned deeply. By then, she was not wet, she was submerged.

She let Patricia slide down her panties, but held her hands after.

"No, no!"

"Let me- Fuck, Quinn, just let me-"

"No, don't touch me! I won't last…"

That surely was the wrong thing to say. Patricia stopped fighting with her hands, but smiled in such a dirty way that let Quinn dizzy. Then her knee came up between the blonde's leg, pressing her sex. Patricia moved the knee away, then pressed again. And that did the trick.

"_Shit!_" Quinn hissed before she was coming so hard her body didn't even obey her anymore. Her stomach contracted, head dropped, sex throbbed - her whole body orgasmed.

And when Fabray finally rolled to the side, her back aching against the rough rug, Patricia was immediately on top of her again. The kiss was hard, deep, full of need.

It took them hours to realize there was a bed two feet away.


End file.
